To the Underground and Back: Part 3
by SealedHearts
Summary: Returning to Avalon, Christine attends the Festival of Umbral. Revelries are cut short, however, when murders are committed—and one of our heroes is framed! In a race against time, Christine aims to prove her friend's innocence and, in doing so, stumbles onto something bigger than anyone could've ever imagined. With a Christian twist. Teen for some violence and thematic elements.
1. Miss Me?

**Hello dear readers! **

**I hope all of you have been well since we parted at the end of Part 2. For my new readers, I STRONGLY advise you read Part 1, Interlude, and Part 2...otherwise none of this will make sense. For my regulars, I *also* STRONGLY advise you read (or scan) the previous stories. Let's just say that everything comes full circle... Not only that, but I've *finally* made some long-desired updates to Part 2, so it's important you are caught up to speed. **

**So, under the assumption that you have just finished reading Part 1, Interlude, and Part 2...without further ado, I present the beginning of Part 3! Enjoy!**

**~SealedHearts**

* * *

_Fog obscures my vision like a thick veil. Hesitantly, I step forward, feeling my shoes click onto a glass floor. I kneel down to feel the extent of the base with a hand. In my general area, there doesn't appear to be drop-off point, not like there would be on a bridge. Peering past the thin surface, all I can make out are shifting shadows. Next I check my attire, seeing I'm clothed in my lilac tank and jeans. Didn't I wear this outfit once before? I contemplate knocking on the floor to get an idea of its depth when the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I sense someone…or _something_. _

_Rising, I see nothing but the swirling fog in front of me. Still, I _know_ something's here. A shiver runs down my spine when I make out the faint outline of a looming figure. Several inches taller than me and clothed in a wispy cloak, the individual seems to melt into the mesmerizing mist. I take a cautious step back, surprised when the figure mirrors my action by taking a threatening step forward—_

**BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!BEEP! **

I awake with a jolt, my heart pounding in my head. Sitting up, I heave a ragged sigh. No mist, no glass floor, no creepy figure. I'm in my bed, in my room, in my house.

Switching the alarm off, I wait patiently for the tension to pass. Throwing the warm covers off my body, I swing my legs over the side. I plunge my toes into the plushy carpet below. _What was that?_ I think, my heart thudding in my chest. _It…was an intriguing dream, but my body's acting like it was a nightmare—and I _never_ have nightmares! Well, although it may've been just a dream, please take care of it for me, Lord._

I stand up and stretch, feeling the filtering beams of sunlight warm my face. Following the lighted path, I cross my room to look behind the window's blinds. An emerald field greets me, its waves of greenery encircling a glistening pond. A painted horse of red and white grazes nearby, his tail swishing away flies. The golden orb peeking over the horizon bathes everything in its misty glow.

"May the morning bring word of Your unfailing love for I have put my trust in You," I recite, my voice the only sound in the room, "Show me the way I should go for to You I lift up my soul."

Making my bed, I glance at Cinderella's smiling face displayed over the pink comforter. "As you like to say, Cindy, 'time to start another day!'"

I trot into the empty kitchen, filching a banana and a peach from the nearby basket as I prepare my breakfast.

Today is Sunday, which means Sunday School at ten, followed by the service. Then I'll probably go out to lunch somewhere; no, on second thought, I'll just stay here. The neighbors have offered to take care of the animals, so I'll leave them to that. No college activities tonight because of that concert in the sanctuary. While bluegrass may not be my thing, it _could_ be fun.

I pour milk over the cereal and sliced fruit, humming "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes." Taking the bowl to the breakfast table, I pray, "Thanks for this food, Lord. Thank You for providing it when I needed it. I pray it will give me the energy I need for today so that I may further glorify You. Oh, and please be with Mom and Dad. In Jesus' Name, Amen."

Even as I chow down, my mind drifts back to the dream. Sure, I've had dreams where I fight villains, dreams where there's so much action that I wake up mentally exhausted. But…this was different. While there was no action, there _was _tension. Who was that figure? Why did they mimic me? Hm. I should break this down. The fog could mean I'm not getting the whole picture. The glass floor could be separating me from what I need to obtain. No, if that were the case it would be more like an obstacle. I was _standing_ on it. I'm venturing into the unknown? What does glass do? It protects us from the elements. It can reflect—like a mirror! What a sec! The figure mimicked me. Well, sort of. It moved when I moved. But, it was taller… My subconscious? My worries from the day before manifesting themselves as another baddie to fight?

I shake my head, puzzled.

But that's just the thing. I _haven't_ been worried. It's summer time. No school, no classes! _Is this dream foreshadowing something? Could You be trying to tell me something, God?_

"Ack," I groan, "and sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar!"

Having finished my food, I clear the table and head back to the kitchen.

Time to get ready for church!

* * *

Turning onto my street, I steer my Honda Fit towards home. As I pass between the familiar rows of houses, a thought strikes me. "Rats," I remember, "I forgot to get the paper." After parking my vehicle in the car port, I walk back to the street. I pick up the bag containing the rolled-up papers, wiping dew that still clings to the plastic surface. Out of habit, I check the mailbox, going so far as to pull open the lid and peer inside.

A letter.

I do a double-take. Sure enough, the thin, white messenger sits there patiently. _Well, that's interesting. _I take it out with my free hand, glancing at the front. "Miss Christine Heartilly" dances across the front in elegant script. _No return address,_ I realize, _on the back maybe?_ I turn the envelope over, spying a red seal pinning the flap down. In the center of the crimson wax is a capital J in cursive.

J? It can't be.

I dash back into the house, scaring my cat Luna. She ducks for cover underneath a table as I sprint by her. "Sorry, Luna-P," I call as I enter the kitchen. Flinging the papers on the counter, I switch the overhead lights on. Now holding the mysterious envelope with both hands, I examine it again. Staring at the seal, I wonder, _what could he be sending me? With that seal it must be something important. _I momentarily stiffen. _Nothing bad has happened over there, has it?_

One way to find out.

I tear open the envelope and pull out what contents it carries. A single white card bordered in lace is the reward for my efforts. Upon reading its message, I breathe a sigh of relief:

_Miss Christine Heartilly,_ the black ink address,

_You are cordially invited to attend _

_The Festival of Umbral_

_On behalf of Avalon and His Royal Majesty_

_King Jareth_

_This event will take place at Umbral, the capital of Athica_

_During the days_—someone had crossed the next part out and had written—_this Tuesday through Friday_

_Please RSVP at least two days in advance_

Two days in advance? That's today. How am I going to…oh. I notice a message written in blue ink in the lower right corner:

_C-_

_I will come a visit you later today for your answer. I hope you can come!_

_-J_

_P.S. Don't you love how they wrote my name?_

That gixie. I grin, shaking my head in disbelief. Some things never change. And yet…a festival? It's an honor that Jareth wants me to come. What will it be like? What does Umbral celebrate?

"Well," I decide, "guess I'll find something to do until he comes."

Heading to my room, I change out of my church clothes, exchanging them for a black tank, jeans and converse. Clasping a black bracelet on my wrist, I finish the look with my cross necklace.

I glance at my desk, noticing my digital camera remains right where I left it. It's a beautiful day, and the campus is lovely this time of year. Taking pictures is a great way to kill time. Shoving the camera into the pocket of my jeans, I grab my keys and head out.

Treading the cemented path, I stroll through manicured lawns and past flowering bushes. As I snap a shot of a preoccupied squirrel, something white catches my attention. Raising my eyes from the screen, I shoot a look into the tree looming above me. Whatever it was has fled. Well, never mind that.

I continue, capturing a moment of three girls having a picnic on the jade grass. Even as their chatter reaches my ears, I notice a path branching off from the sidewalk. From the leaves and petals scattered over the plane, it seems to be less-traveled. I follow the winding trail, aware I'm descending deeper into what feels like a forgotten world. Away from the people and the buildings, I arrive at a wooden archway, recognizing it as the entrance to a garden and the campus's chapel. Closed off from the noise and busy activity, this sanctuary is ideal for the individual seeking solitude and craving communion with God.

Settling on a bench blanketed by scattered shade, I flip through the images I've taken: artistic angles of sloping buildings backdropped by sky, energetic animals going about their daily activities, and students cocooned in their private worlds of daydreams.

"No birds, though." I murmur aloud, as I stretch out on the wooden surface, "Too darn fast."

I shut the camera off and lay it beside me. Closing my eyes, I breathe in the sweet scent of roses and allow the cool breeze to kiss my face and tangle my brown hair. With the wonderful peace I feel, I'm not surprised when my heartbeat slows to a relaxed rhythm.

Time seems to stop as I lay there, wrapped in my own blissful solitude. The silence is music to my ears. So content with my present state, I ignore the footfalls descending the steps nearby.

_If it weren't for that person, I could fall asleep right here…_

"But then you'd miss all the fun," answers an amused voice.

I sit up quickly in surprise, causing my camera to clatter to the ground below. In a flash, the speaker stoops to retrieve the device, checking to make sure it isn't damaged. As he rises, I find myself eye-to-eye with David Bowie. I-it can't be—_oh._

The Fae King himself stands before me. Dressed in a white tee, dark jeans, and brown shoes, I would have passed him off as any other guy. His blond hair, usually fluffed like a bird's feathers, is instead swept away from his face and tied back with cords of leather. His blue eyes gleaming with childlike excitement, my spiritual kin flashes me a smile.

"Jareth!" I exclaim, leaping up out of my seat to hug him, "It's wonderful to see you!"

"And I am glad to see you as well," he replies, returning the affectionate gesture.

"It's been a long time since we last talked." I remark, receiving the camera. "Oh, here, sit down."

He accepts the invitation, breathing in the flowered aroma. "Has it really been only a year?" He wonders aloud. "We'll have to take care of that."

I smile at his words before recalling a tiny detail. "Hey, was that you I caught a glimpse of earlier?"

"Possibly," Jareth replies innocently, allowing his grin to betray him.

"I knew it!"

"How have you been, Christine?" he inquires, beginning the custom pleasantries.

"Well, thank you. I finished junior year about a month ago. Even with the craziness of life, I managed to get all As—by God's goodness, of course."

"My congratulations on your accomplishments thus far. I remember how difficult one's studies can be."

"Thanks! My family's doing well. Mom and Dad are currently on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, so I've got the entire place to myself for a week!"

Jareth chuckles at my enthusiasm. "No wild parties?" he teases lightly.

"You know me—I'm more of a one-on-one kinda gal. Unfortunately, everyone I've called either has a summer job or is out of town. _Gee_," I say with faint sarcasm, connecting the dots, "your popping up was _perfect_ timing, _wasn't it?_" Receiving merely a smirk in response, I turn the tide of conversation towards him. "So what about you? How's everything at Avalon? How are Lionel and the others?"

"Avalon is progressing as it should," he answers, addressing my questions one at a time. "Most of the kingdom has been rebuilt. We've turned Lionel's castle into a safe haven should anything happen to mine. Currently, we're building a place of worship with a school nearby to teach those who want to learn more about the faith. Sir Didymus has been overseeing that project given that he has more experience."

I can't help but marvel at his words. Jareth has become so humble that he acknowledges he doesn't know everything. While he _is_ Avalon's King, he understands the value of teamwork. From despising his subjects to allowing them to apply their expertise, Jareth sure has come a long way.

"Lionel and the aristocracy continue to live close to my castle, but they are now using their positions to honor and glorify God. I kid you not, they are following the roles of master and servant to the letter from God's Word. I admit, it's still strange to see them pouring over the Scripture, taking great care not to misinterpret its messages."

"God's really working in that place," I answer, "and that's _truly_ amazing to hear. Oh, what about Hoggle and Ludo?"

At their names, Jareth looks off to the side, slightly ashamed. "To be honest, I don't know," he says. "I sometimes see Hoggle on the castle grounds, but the two of them are busy aiding Didymus with whatever he requires. I wish I could tell you more."

"No, that's all right," I apologize hastily. "Hey, have you ever had frozen yogurt before?" At his puzzled expression, I give a display mock horror. "Oh my gosh," I exclaim, "then you've been missing out! C'mon, let's go straight there!"

* * *

I stand beside Jareth, watching him stare at the silver machines lined up in front of us. Like a knight facing his deadliest foe, so does the Fae King glare at the unfamiliar structures.

I nudge him gently, "Need any help?"

"Yes," he confesses. "While I know what all of these labels mean, I don't know which would be most pleasing…"

"Well," I offer, "why don't you tell me what kind of foods you like, and I'll try to match them."

He stops short of handing me his container, reflecting, "You know, I don't believe anyone has asked me that before." He ponders for a moment before answering with finality, "Peaches."

"I could've guessed that. Anything else?"

He smiles. "More peaches."

"At once, Your Majesty," I reply, giving a quick curtsy, or at least one that can be done with jeans. I go to the appropriate levers, pressing out the flavors I think are closest. As I perform this duty, I become aware of Jareth watching my every move like a curious puppy. I sprinkle the toppings I think will complement the fruity taste (blueberries…bananas, maybe?) before handing the bowl back to him. "Wait until I get mine," I instruct him, "then we'll weigh them and see how much they cost. It'll be my treat!"

Jareth waits patiently while I crank out different vanilla flavors and choose different slices of fruit and berries. While I normally go straight for chocolate, Jareth's choice has encouraged me to branch out. Even as I pay for the treats, I become aware of the whispers filtering through the room, of the heads furtively turning to glance at us.

While the cashier takes my money, I say casually to Jareth, "They're talking about _you_, you know."

"Can you blame them?" he smirks.

Receiving my change, I roll my eyes. "C'mon, Mr. Movie Star, we're eating outside."

He lightly chuckles as he follows me out the door.

We settle on a table away from the foot traffic. The sun, at its zenith, is generous in showering its rays down upon us. In the heat, I find I am _very_ glad to have something frozen to enjoy. As I fold my topping over into the sea of yogurt, I steal a glance at Jareth, who regards his cold delight with caution.

My spoon inches away from my mouth, I stare at him when it clicks. "Hold on a sec. You've never had _human_ food before, have you?"

At his shy grin, I can't help but exclaim, "Oh, Fae King, you never cease to amaze me! Go on and try some!"

Gingerly, Jareth scoops up a spoonful of fluffy orange yogurt and puts it in his mouth.

"Well," I ask as he explores the foreign taste, "what's do you think?"

His eyes widen in surprise as he comes to a startling revelation. "This…" he tries another spoonful for confirmation, "this is absolutely delicious!" As he swallows a third portion, his face glows with childlike excitement. "Such flavor! Such texture! Avalon doesn't have _anything_ like this!"

I watch, stunned as he finishes his cup within seconds. Noticing the feral gleam in his eye, I cringe when he looks up and spies my untouched yogurt.

"Here," I resign, pushing it across the table towards the thrilled Fae King, "I forfeit." Watching him devour my treat mercilessly, I can't help thinking, _What have I done?_

Eight more cups and one penniless mortal later, the monster is finally satisfied.

Leaning back in his chair, Jareth releases a content sigh.

I merely shake my head in disbelief. "Ten cups," I remark. "_That_ is insane. Do you have _any_ idea how much yogurt you consumed? I'm surprised they didn't run out of stock!"

"_That_ is magic folk for you," he counters with a chuckle as he rises to dispose of the empty cups.

His laugh infectious, I can't help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. _Spending time with Jareth like this, _I realize, _is good. I haven't laughed like this in a long time. Thank You, Father, for the friend you have given me._

When he returns, I can tell my spiritual kin is ready to talk business.

"I assume you received my invitation?" he inquires.

"Yes," I confirm, "and I am honored that you want me to come. Since I apparently have no plans, I would love to join you, but I _do_ have a few questions."

"I imagined as much."

"Then to start, what _is_ the Festival of Umbral? What's celebrated?"

"Well," he begins, "I won't bore you with the long and drawn-out history, but back before my Father was ruling hundreds of years ago, the many kingdoms were at war with each other. There was constant bloodshed, alliances frequently broken by betrayal, the never-ending clash for power. This gruesome cycle continued for centuries. Then, by a miracle, there was a young king. Wise beyond his years, he was able to see what the others could not: eventually the entire world would be destroyed and there would be no one left to rule.

"The kings realized their foolishness and became aware of the blood staining their hands. They acknowledged the young king's sagacity, and so began to establish a fragile peace. One ruler, however, did not like the notion of harmony. Oren was his name. The night the various treaties were to be signed, Oren had the young king brutally murdered. He had been hoping to incite chaos once more, to bring back the Age of Transgression as it was later called, but his plan backfired. The rulers, outraged by Oren's actions, banded together and defeated him.

"Even though Oren had been crushed under their might, the rulers knew their retribution would not bring the young king back. To honor him and preserve his memory, they took Oren's land and created a kingdom named Athica. The capital, Umbral, was named after the young king. Now, there is no one ruler of Athica. In attempt to maintain Umbral's vision for unity, there exists a council comprised of representatives from each realm. Usually they are past rulers who have stepped down for their heirs or are instead special individuals endorsed by the present king as having the kingdom's best interests at heart. So, for example, even though I currently rule Avalon, I still have to report to the council of Umbral ever so often. If they send word to me, by law, I am expected to obey it."

"So that was short version, huh?" I tease lightly. "Well, thank you for explaining things to me. So the Festival of Umbral is a celebration commemorating the young ruler and the unification of the kingdoms?"

"Correct."

"So, what goes on during the festival?"

"Well, since Umbral is considered the cultural crossroads between the various realms, it's a wonderful opportunity to come together and exchange new ideas. The subjects who live in Athica, as a result, are a mesh of all of the different kingdoms. During the festival, merchants come from all over, competitions are held, entertainment is provided… It's really quite extraordinary. Since you annually go to renaissance festivals, I thought you might enjoy going to a real one. Lionel will be attending it this year, and I thought it would be a great way for the three of us to bond. Would you like to join us?"

"I would _love_ to!" I exclaim without hesitation.

"Wonderful," he says, clearly pleased. "I'll come see you around this time tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," I reply, beaming.

With that answer, Jareth vanishes.

For a moment, I just sit there, allowing the reality of the agreement to sink in. "Oh…my _gosh_. Woo-HOO!"

* * *

After Jareth had left, I spent the rest of the day leaping and screaming with excitement. When I got home, I blasted the house with _Magic Dance_. Frankly, I'm surprised the neighbors didn't call to ask if there was anything wrong. Luna, aware something had happened, watched in fear as I danced around like a five year old on a sugar rush. I flew through my daily chores, giddy with anticipation. I regret I found myself impatient when attending the bluegrass concert. While others were enraptured by the God-breathed words, my mind was in a different world entirely. During intermission, I retreated to an empty room, ashamed of my negligence. In the quiet, I begged God to forgive me and to set my mind back on Him for the rest of the evening. Faithful as always, He removed all distractions so that I could sincerely worship Him. I returned home feeling refreshed, content in a way that was healthy for my demeanor. The excitement returned at night, however, and infiltrated my dreams as swirls of frozen yogurt and showers of glitter.

* * *

**So, what do you think? As you can tell, this chapter is pretty long. Therefore, I will be posting new chapters every one and half to two weeks (unless otherwise noted). We will be covering a lot of information each time, so I want to give you enough time to read through the chapters carefully. Should you have any questions (or find any discrepancies), just lemme know! :)**

**Also, it is important that you should know Jareth is now the FAE King. After all, he no longer rules over goblins, does he?  
**


	2. Reunion

**Back to Avalon we go! ^_^ Enjoy!**

* * *

After reading my devotional (which, not surprisingly had been about friendship), I once again begin preparing breakfast for myself. With the initial shock over with, I find I'm able to ponder upcoming event with a considerable amount of clarity.

I pick the invitation up and carry it with me to the breakfast table. As I swirl the slices of banana around in my cereal, I read the note again. Tuesday through Friday. Although it had been considerate of Jareth to translate their days for me, how long would I be gone according to my time?

From what I've gathered, the timeline of the magical realm is faster than ours. I must've spent at least two days in Avalon the last time I was there. When I returned home, only several hours had passed. With that temporal framework in mind, Jareth said Avalon's reconstruction was almost finished. It's only been a year here, so for all I know, they've been rebuilding for four or five years.

So, back to the matter of the present. The festival is from "Tuesday" to "Friday." That means here I may be gone only a day or so. I'll ask the neighbors to take care of the animals for tonight and tomorrow. That should be a large enough window for me to return without arousing any suspicion.

After breakfast, I spend the rest of the morning tying up loose ends, such as checking email, checking the animals' food supply, etc. When the neighbors inquire why they're to watch over the place for an extended period of time, I reply, "I'll be visiting a friend who lives out of town."

Their response is to merely smile and continue about their business.

With everything now in order, all I can do is wait.

* * *

"Christine!" I hear the Fae King call.

"I'm in my room," I answer, zipping up the most medieval-looking bag I could find. It's not long before I hear Jareth enter, his boots muffled by the plush carpet. "Hi," I say, glancing up at him as I rise from the floor.

Dressed in his white tunic, a dark red vest, and brown breeches, he eyes the bag I sling over my shoulder. "What's that for?" he asks, somewhat curious.

"Well," I explain, "since I'm going to a _real_ renaissance festival, I thought I might…" I let my voice trail off, suddenly _very_ aware that what I'm bringing is _very_ insulting. "Um…"

Realizing I haven't finished my sentence, Jareth puts two and two together. Without a word, he holds out a gloved hand.

Embarrassed, I pull the bag off of my shoulder and hand it to him. Feeling my face grow hot, I can only watch as he places the satchel on my bed and peers inside at the contents. A small smile escapes him when he sees the bar of soap, the deodorant, the toothbrush and toothpaste, and the underclothes.

Mentally kicking myself, I cringe when Jareth looks back at me.

He chuckles quietly, remarking, "It is _you_ who never ceases to amaze me, Christine. Did it not occur to you all of this would be provided for?"

"The shame I'm feeling should be confirmation," I murmur awkwardly. "Sorry…"

"It is something which is easily pardoned, my dear," he assures me. "I encourage you to leave these things here not only because you will have everything you need, but also because it is not wise for objects from your world to exist in mine and vice versa. Our worlds, although now spiritually linked, are meant to remain separate. Do you understand what that could lead to?"

"Yeah," I answer. It'd be like taking our technology and giving it to people in the Middle Ages. The natural cycle of progress on both ends would be interrupted and chaos would ensue. I've seen enough movies and read enough books to understand the consequences of such tampering. "Well," I admit as I place my bag on my desk, "then, in that case, I guess I'm ready!"

"Good," he says, pleased. "The others are anxious to see you."

One burst of blinding glitter later, and I'm in Avalon once again.

* * *

We meet Lionel in the room overlooking the courtyard a short while later. The sunlight shining through the windows enlarges the marble room with its brilliance. Lionel is out on a balcony when he hears us arrive. Turning with pleasant surprise, he quits the view to receive us. As he nears us, I see the nobleman's dressed in a velvet, navy tunic with dark breeches. Giving a gracious bow to his King, Lionel turns to gaze at me. "Lady Christine, it cheers my spirit to see you after so long," he greets me with a distinguished bow.

"It's wonderful to see you as well," I reply, dipping a curtsey in return.

"Am I to understand you will be joining us for the Festival of Umbral this year?"

"Yes," I say, "and I can't wait! Do you know when we'll be leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning," he answers, "we will be going by ship. The goal is to be there by the next day for the opening ceremony."

"We'll be going by ship?" I exclaim, "Oh, it's been so long since I've been on the ocean! This is going to be a wonderful adventure, I just know it!"

Lionel smiles at my enthusiasm before looking to Jareth.

"Now that you're here, Christine," Jareth says, "we'll have to get you ready for the journey. Selene!" he calls, and the faerie enters.

_She's like his shadow,_ I think. _She's always there in case he needs her. _

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Selene inquires with a deep bow. Looking up, she notices me and smiles in recognition; I give a small wave. Returning her attention to her King, she awaits his orders.

"Selene, I would like you and your maids to take care of Christine's attire and effects for the festival. Let me know when you are finished."

"As you wish, milord," she consents, disappearing as stealthily as she had appeared.

"Thank you, Jareth," I say, "that is very kind of you."

"Think nothing of it, love," he replies lightly. "Although you'll have your own quarters on the ship, for the festival I think it best you share quarters with Selene and her maidservants. Even though you are my guest, they will be the only women in the party."

"That was very thoughtful, and I will enjoy getting to know them." I answer, when I suddenly remember Lionel is still with us. Courteous gentleman that he is, however, he has directed his thoughts toward the window. Inwardly, I give myself a mental face-palm. _That's probably more information than he was looking for._

Pleased to see I approve, Jareth rubs his hands together. "Now that _that's_ settled, there are a few more things you need to be aware of."

At this sentence, I see Lionel return his attention to us.

"First," the king begins, "Athica has a different currency than Avalon. Since people come from all over, the council (or Order, I should say) thought is best there would be a uniform currency for everyone to abide by." Receiving a series of coins from Lionel, Jareth shows them to me.

"The lowest amount is a Gil," he gives me a small copper coin to look at.

Inspecting it, I notice one side has an embellished G. The other side has the scowling face of a goblin.

"While you won't get much just by Gil, one hundred of these coins can become one Torin." He gives me a silver coin.

In the light, I see there is an elaborate T on one side, and the display of an elf's solemn face on the back. _Wow,_ I realize with growing excitement, _I might actually see Elves! I wonder if they're more like Tolkein's elves or more like the ones from fairy tales…_

"Twenty Torins becomes the last amount—a Knute." He deposits in my hand a large coin which looks like it's made of gold. Glancing at the ornate K, I flip the last coin over to see a serious-looking dwarf (?) on the surface.

"So," I repeat, "one hundred Gil become one Torin. Twenty Torins become one Knute, correct?"

He nods, before adding, "Most items at the festival are either in Torins or Knutes, but it doesn't hurt to bring some Gil along. To add to the history lesson I gave you yesterday, Umbral wasn't the only one honored for his deeds during the Age of Transgression. Gil, Torin, and Knute were three of the kings who agreed to make peace by Umbral's prompting. There are tributes to all of the rulers throughout Athica, so keen an eye out for the various monuments."

"That's really cool," I say, handing the sample money back. "What else do I need to know?"

Jareth gives me a sly smile, which makes me instantly regret my words. "There will be a ball."

"Dancing?" I exclaim, at once thrilled with the prospect. However, that excitement quickly fades as reality hits me smack in the face. "But I don't know any of the dances."

"Which is why," Jareth begins, taking me by the arm, "we'll teach you."

"But," I protest with dismay, "I haven't waltzed in ages!"

"You danced with me once before," he points out as we enter what appears to be a large ballroom. Paired nobles swirling around the marble floor halt to bow to their King.

"Yeah, but that was a dream. Of course it was perfect!"

"Then this would be the _perfect_ time to _practice_," comes the even reply.

Watching Lionel join his fellow nobility, we see them resume their pairs and spin once more in time with the melody.

Jareth draws me to one side of the vast room as to not interfere with the more advanced dancers.

"Why do I feel like you had this all planned?" I remark as he stands before me. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were losing your touch."

"Feel free to believe that, my dear." He replies smoothly as he positions my left hand on his shoulder and takes my right hand in his left. "The waltz is the most common dance at the ball, so we'll begin with that one." As he puts his free hand on my waist, he continues, "When I move forward with my left, you step back with your right."

"So like a mirror?"

"Exactly. From here, we move slightly to the right and then step back. Slide back to the left, and we begin again."

"Wait a minute," I say, "I know this. This is the box step, isn't it?"

"You are correct," he replies. "While there are variations of the waltz, this is the most basic one to start with. Let's do it once more." He instructs, slowly counting to three.

"One—two, three."

I step back as he moves forward, taking care to step to my left.

"One—two, three."

Advancing, I mirror him as I slide back to the starting point.

"There you go," he remarks, "that's all there is with the footwork. Now, let's try a turn with it. Oh, and there are a few things you need to be aware of concerning court etiquette."

"Which would be…?" I ask, glancing down briefly to make sure I'm stepping in the right places as we rotate.

"First, unless you're already engaged with a partner, it is considered rude to refuse a request for your hand. Second, when you accept a request, you are actually agreeing to two dances, not one. Third," he notices me glance down again, "you need to maintain eye contact with your partner or—"

I give a small gasp as I lose my footing and crash into him; his hands grip me tightly to maintain my balance.

Looking up, I see him finish with an amused smile, "You'll trip."

Becoming aware that he holds me close to him, I feel my face grow hot.

Noticing my discomfort, Jareth chuckles darkly, "Now don't be falling head-over-heels for me."

At his words, my embarrassment gives way to irritation. "What?" I scowl, standing up to my full height, which really isn't much standing next to the tall faerie. "As if!"

He merely gives me lopsided grin before calling over his shoulder, "Lionel, I believe it is time we switch partners. Our guest wants to know who the better dancer is!" He counters my glare with a wink before disappearing into the mass of dancers. I hear his laugh echo throughout the room.

Seconds later, Lionel comes to attend to me.

"That crazy git," I murmur. "Is he like this with everyone else?"

"At the moment, just you, I'm afraid." He replies sympathetically as we take up positions.

"Oh," I remark, raising my voice so Jareth can hear, "so I suppose it's a privilege to suffer the King's antics?"

Jareth merely snickers.

I make a face before turning back to my partner.

"He only does that to get a rise out of you," the noble says gently as we rotate.

I give a small sigh. "I know," I admit. "Thank you for agreeing to switch."

"It is my pleasure to aid a maiden when she is in distress," he answers lightly.

I giggle. "Even from a gixie like Jareth!"

Lionel's lips curl into a knowing smile. "But it is also good to get experience with different partners. Who knows who you'll be engaged with at the ball."

"Good point," I agree, feeling myself relax.

The nobleman, taking cue from my current condition, increases the whirling tempo.

Instantly, I tense, unable to stop from looking down.

He halts mid-spin, removing his hand at my waist to tilt my face up to his. "Eyes on me, all right?" He says patiently. "Allow me to lead, to guide you. You'll be able to sense my movements and follow accordingly."

I take a deep breath. "Okay," I decide, "let's try again." Now determined, I lock eyes with Lionel as we begin to spin. Now that I focus on _his_ movements, it _is_ easier to follow! I sense him increase speed ever so slightly. Having gotten the footwork down, I find it easy to match his pace. "Hey!" I exclaim, "I'm doing it!"

"You are coming along beautifully," Lionel praises me.

"Thanks," I answer shyly, "and thank you for being so patient. I can see how Jareth considers you his closest friend."

The noble is about to reply when a voice interrupts us, "I must say, you two are quite a pair…"

We turn to see Jareth leaning against a wall. "Of victims, that is," he finishes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask guardedly as Lionel and I part.

"Let's just say it's a long trip over the water…and I get _bored_ easily," he answers with a smirk.

Wary of the King's tone, I look to Lionel for an explanation.

"Let's just say Jareth can be a prankster at times," he confesses, "although he won't be taking any drastic measures, _will he?_" The noble raises his eyes to the King striding towards us.

My spiritual kin holds up his hands in mock defense, saying, "Perish the thought!"

I roll my eyes. "Well, for the record, Jareth, I do believe Lionel has won this round. Better luck next time."

* * *

Before long, I was able to perform the waltz at the normal speed. I had also learned a number of dances that were likely to be seen at the ball. Strangely enough, most of them resembled period dances, like the English dances during the 1800's. We had just finished going over the Dwarf's Respite—ironically a rather fast dance—when Jareth declared the session over for the day.

"Phew!" I exclaim, catching my breath. "I forgot how much energy dancing takes up!"

Exiting the ballroom with the other nobles, I go to the balcony as they file out through the corridor. Grateful for the breeze blowing through, I allow it to cool my body down. I watch the crowds coming from the castle disperse below. Their wings glistening in the sunlight, the faeries divide into small clusters and go their ways.

Looking past the castle walls, I gaze as far as I can into the misty expanse. Sure enough, the ocean ripples along the blue horizon. Even from a distance, it looks beautiful.

"There you are," says a voice, startling me out of my reverie. I turn to see Jareth lingering in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes," I reply, "I thought the air would do me good. I'm surprised how fast time has flown. The sun is almost gracing the horizon."

I watch him come to stand by me, his tall form bathed in the golden glow. _A lion_, I realize, _that's what he makes me think of. Noble. Strong. King of his land. I never associated him with birds when I saw the movie. In my eyes, he was a lion. Now that he serves You, Lord, I can't picture him as anything else. _I smile with private joy at the thought and turn to watch the sunset with him.

The sound of someone calling my name draws my attention down to the courtyard. Searching the vicinity below, I spy three familiar figures waving their arms.

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaim, waving back, "Hoggle! Ludo! Sir Didymus!"

I glance back at Jareth, whose eyes shine like bright sapphires in the light; he nods his consent.

Turning back to the three friends, I call, "I'll be right down!"

I fly from the balcony and dart through the empty corridor to the stairs I remember seeing earlier. In my excitement, I almost trip descending the swirling stairway. Reaching the bottom, I burst through the doorway. Sprinting across the cobblestone path, it's not long before I reach the three companions.

Coming to Hoggle first, I give the hobgoblin a tight hug. "Hoggle," I cry, "how _are_ you?"

"Been missin' you, lass," he confides gruffly.

"I've missed you, too," I reply as I release him.

Fur catches my eye and I turn to see Sir Didymus giving me a respectful bow. "Milady, it has been a long time since you last graced us with your presence," he announces.

"Too long," I agree, before wrapping the fierce little dog in a much-missed embrace.

"Cwis!" booms a deep voice.

I spin around in delight. "Ludo!" I say, rising to be engulfed in the beast's furry hug. "How's my big, friendly giant?"

"Ludo miss Cwis!" he laments.

"Well, I'm glad we can see each other then," I answer, feeling cozy in Ludo's thick mane. _Man, that dancing really wore me out!_

As Ludo reluctantly lets me go, I step back to survey the three companions. "So how have you all been? How's the reconstruction going?"

"We have been well, Lady Chris," Sir Didymus replies, speaking as the unofficial leader. "King Jareth has appointed me to oversee the building of the cathedral as well as the school. It has been a daunting task, to be sure, but God has provided the materials and rocks needed," he nods towards Ludo, "as well as the workers," he motions to Hoggle.

"You mean 'slaves,'" the hobgoblin interrupts curtly.

The fox-terrier sputters with indignation, "Well, I never—"

"Then what's your definition of someone who works day and night to satisfy your demands, huh?"

"I-I…well, what do _you_ mean by working 'day and night?' You take so many breaks I surprised you get anything done at all!"

I can't help but chuckle at their bickering. "It's good to be back," I declare with a smile, halting their verbal sparring. I glance up at the balcony to see Jareth peering down; he makes eye contact with me. _Time to go, huh?_ I look back at my friends. "Thanks, guys, for coming to see me. It was a wonderful surprise."

"But, of course," Hoggle replies.

"Oh, hey, I just remembered, will you guys be going to Umbral this year?"

"I am afraid not, Lady Chris," Sir Didymus apologizes. "The task set before us is our priority. Next year, however, the situation will be different."

"I understand," I answer. "Well, I'll see you when we return then, and I'll tell you all about it!"

Several hugs and goodbyes later, I rejoin Jareth, who directs me to the guest room I used last time.

"I'll send for you in the morning," he says. "It's imperative we get an early start."

"Good to know," I answer. "Oh, and thanks for letting me see the others. It was good to spend time with them."

"I figured you would want to speak with them before we left. Sleep well, my dear. I'll see you in the morning." he finishes, closing the door gently.

In the morning, my adventure would officially begin!

* * *

**And so ends Chapter 2. My, what _could_ Jareth be planning? Also, it's important to keep the animal imagery (and Christine's dream) in mind, because, as you will learn, the tiniest of details can serve the largest of roles. :)**


	3. Suffering the King's Antics

**Welcome, dear readers, to our next chapter of Part 3. Enjoy! :)**

**~SealedHearts**

* * *

The next morning, before the sun has awoken the land, there comes a knock at the door: Selene. Informing me breakfast would be ready soon, she also says she's come to help me dress for the day. Upon being admitted, the faerie goes to a trunk in the corner, and produces a white tunic, a brown corset, breeches, a belt, and boots. Even as she lays the attire on the bed, I eye the corset warily.

"Do they not have corsets from your world?" She guesses.

"Not anymore," I answer sheepishly.

"Well, fret not," she assures me as I pull the tunic over my head and don the breeches, "With your slim frame, you probably won't even feel it. For your sake, the corset is more for show than anything, milady."

Kneeling down, she wraps the stiff garment around my waist and begins to lace me up with her nimble fingers.

As she does this, I find myself playing with the sleeves. No wonder Sarah wore these. They're so…poofy!

"Your other clothes are in that trunk," Selene explains, "and your dress is there as well."

"Dress?" I ask, glancing down at her.

"For the ball," she clarifies, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, "His Majesty picked it out with you in mind. If it's not too bold for me to say, the two of you share a special relationship. You would be surprised to know how much you are envied in the Court. Besides Lord Farron, you are the only one His Majesty appears to have taken a particular liking to. There, all done. Look in the glass and tell me what you think."

I glance at my reflection in the mirror. I gotta admit…I look _good_. "Definitely sea-worthy," I declare to Selene's satisfaction.

* * *

A few hours later, (after eventually getting my sea legs) I step out onto the deck, breathing in the salty air. Stretching, I lean back ever so slightly to feel the sun's golden rays dancing over my face. It's wonderful to be on the ocean again! I survey the sailors working before me before spying Lionel from afar, who stands on the forecastle deck. Working my way through the bustling sailors, I join the nobleman in his activity, which happens to be looking down into the water below.

"Lose something?" I ask, seeing nothing but sapphire waves splashing against the hull.

"No," he replies, looking farther ahead, "just making sure we don't run into any trouble—sirens, mermaids, and the like."

"Oh," I say, as though I knew that's exactly what he had been doing. Still…_I guess that means mermaids are as vicious as they say. Bummer. Guess I'll have to admire them from afar if we sight any then._ "Hey, Lionel," I venture, "besides looking for she-devils, are you doing anything right now?"

"No," he admits, "why do you ask?"

"Well, Jareth's busy with his first mate, and are Selene and the others are…doing domestic things…I'm, well, bored…"

"And you're looking for some excitement?" he deduces. "To be honest, I am as well. Did you have anything in mind?"

"Can you…teach me how to fence? Even if it's just a little bit?"

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "You know, there should be some practice swords below. I'll find them and we'll practice when the men are on break. That'll give us the room we need."

"Great, thanks!"

* * *

It wasn't long before I got my chance. Unfortunately, it turns out fencing is harder than it looks…

"You are left-handed, are you?" Lionel muses when I take the blade he presents to me.

I nod. "Would you prefer I learn right-handed instead?"

"No," he disagrees nonchalantly, "it's better you begin with your dominant hand. It's just that left-handed people are usually considered either cursed or more adept at learning. I'd prefer to believe you fall in the latter category."

"Yeah, that's definitely more appealing!"

After that, he teaches me the most common stances, the way you hold your sword, and various lunges and strikes. Thankful that my martial arts training allows me to get the footwork down easily, I concentrate more on the flicks and swishes Lionel demonstrates for me. Before long, he faces me, switching his rapier to his left hand so that we oppose each other properly.

"If I lunge forward…" he quizzes, stepping towards me.

"I step back and parry," I reply, flipping my blade down so that I can then direct his foil where I want it to go.

We continue this back-and-forth conversation before moving onto a quicker pace. The cries of seagulls—or creatures that _seem_ like seagulls—draw my eyes up to spot little white creatures teasing the sailor in the crow's nest.

"Focus, Christine," Lionel commands me sharply.

"Sorry," I apologize, gripping my sword tightly, "but what are those creatures overhead?"

"They are kin to pixies," he explains, thrusting his rapier forward, "but no one knows what they are exactly since they reside by water."

"Hmm…" I murmur as I flip his stab up, causing him to compensate. "What about korrigans?"

"Based on what I've heard of these little imps, that makes sense." He agrees, blocking my strike and shoving it to the side. "Maybe Umbral will have information about them."

Seeing nobleman spin, I duck to avoid a horizontal slash. I roll to the left, dodging the thrust aimed at my stomach. I freeze, however, when I find I'm an inch away from the point of my opponent's glistening weapon.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" I say with resignation as he removes his rapier from my sight. Accepting the hand offered, I rise and watch Lionel sheathe his blade.

"You favor your left side," he reveals, receiving the practice sword from me. "In a real fight, such a choice would have been a fatal error. While it is important to know combinations and forms, you also need to be flexible."

I think back to when he and I last faced each other. Even though I had impulsively launched myself at him, he had been able to turn that to his advantage. And just now, he had been fighting with his non-dominant hand.

"I still have a lot to learn, don't I?" I wince.

"Yes," he admits, "but you are a fast learner. You're doing well for a beginner."

"Thanks," I reply, glad for the compliment. Feeling the sun's rays glare down on me, I decide, "I think I'll retire for now. Thanks for the lesson, Lionel."

"My pleasure," he answers with a bow before turning and heading to the Captain's cabin.

* * *

In my quarters, I fall onto the simple cot in the corner, staring at the wooden ceiling overhead. Feeling the swaying lull of the ship, I smile. _It's soooo good to be on a ship._ Rising, I decide I'd better take a bath. It won't be long before we're at Athica, and I want to look my best. Searching my trunk, I look for anything that resembles a towel. Finding a thick blanket, I pull it out from under the weight of the clothing on top. Taking care to avert my eyes from the shimmery material that catches my interest (the dress?), I place the other articles of clothing back and shut the chest. I strip down, placing my garb on the bed. Only now that I'm at the bare minimum do I become aware of the cold draft swirling through. Taking the blanket with me as gooseflesh shivers down my body, I step into the adjoining room and close the door.

As I gently lower myself into the small tub filled with water, I give a sharp intake of breath. _Gosh, this water is cold!_ I cringe as I force my body under, waiting for it to adapt to the chilled basin. Soon, I find my mind drifting as I blissfully lay there. I close my eyes, breathing in the salty air which continues to permeate the room.

I allow myself to slide under the water and remain there.

_Underwater, everything is silent. No one can disturb me here in this private world. Just You and me, God._

_Just You and me._

Aware I'm running out of oxygen, I sit up quickly, shattering the barrier of silence. As I gulp in the needed air, I spot something out of the corner of my eye.

A bar of soap, which wasn't there earlier, sits balanced on the rim of the basin.

"Tch," I mutter, reaching over and grabbing the slippery item, "_someone's_ working around the system."

I sniff it and breathe the aroma of lavender blossoms. _Mmm…that smells good._

After I have finished, I carefully rise from the tub and dry off. As I wrap the blanket around me, I enter my quarters and make a beeline for my bed.

Hold on a sec.

I could've sworn I put my clothes there. Puzzled, I cross the wooden floor to the trunk sitting in the corner. Squatting down, I pull the clasp up with a free hand and lift the top up.

Empty.

I grit my teeth as I stand, making sure the blanket is wrapped tightly around me for decency. Special relationship, huh?

"JARETH!"

I see a flash out of the corner of my eye. Whirling around, I spot Jareth lounging on my bed with a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

Gripping my blanket, I growl, "Bring back my clothes. NOW."

Despite my seriousness, the Fae King takes one look at me and bursts out laughing. He's about to answer me when he glances at me again and is overcome with a second fit of giggles. "The look," he gasps, "on your face, ha, ha, ha, is just _precious!_" His chuckles beginning to subside, he wipes a tear from his eye and surveys my pitiful state with triumphant glee. "I wish you could see it. Oh, wait," he realizes, "you can!"

Seconds later, a mirror appears in my free hand; seeing my reflection, I scowl in response.

Even as Jareth rises from his position, I continue to glare at him with every ounce of dignity I can muster.

"How I've ruffled your feathers, my dear one," he observes, clearly amused.

"Clearly. And now that you _have,_" I reply tersely, "I want you to bring my clothes back_ right now._"

He stands before me, hand on his hip. "You're so fun to tease," he declares, "but I sense the silent threats behind those words of yours. Very well, dearest, as you wish." He snaps his fingers and he disappears.

Even as my bird of a heart begins to alight upon its perch once more, I wait a few seconds in case the Fae King decides to go back on his promise. Fortunately, I remain the sole occupant in the room. After checking the bed and the trunk to find my belongings have _indeed_ been returned, only then do I find I can change in peace.

"That gixie," I mutter. "It looks like the prankster needs to be pranked. But what to do? I've never pranked someone before." I rack my brains, but everything I come up with is too modern. _I gotta stick with the basics_, I realize. _Work with what's on the ship_.

* * *

Come lunchtime, Jareth is surprised to find his food doused in pepper and his drink swimming with salt. I hear him chuckle, genuinely touched by the small endeavor. "Although," he admits slyly, glancing in my direction, "I truly _am_ hungry so I believe I'll even the score." With a wave of his hand, he causes half of my portion to vanish and to reappear on his plate. Noticing my surprised glare, he remarks, "Be glad I didn't take all of it."

Now forced to ration out my food for the remaining mealtime, I rethink my strategy in silence. Despite the many ideas swirling around, however, one thought continues to surface. Focusing on that strand, I give an inward sigh. While his previous prank had been in jest, it had been unsettling. _Later,_ I vow, _I'll voice my thoughts, but for right now, I need to find a way to beat him at his own game._

When everyone disperses to see to their various activities, I sneak a glimpse at Jareth. Watching him join the cook in the storeroom (probably to see if I had contaminated anything else), I retreat in the opposite direction to his room. Scanning his cabin, I think, _I have to be quick. He'll be returning any moment. _

Within minutes, after several dangerous attempts, I manage to place a bucket filled with seawater over the door, which is slightly ajar. The moment Jareth opens the door all the way, the bucket will fall and he'll be drenched! Smiling as I envision the surprise on his face, I duck behind his bed. Concealed from view, I stifle a giggle. _Should've brought a mirror with me._ My patience is rewarded when I hear footfalls drawing near. Dropping to the floor, I peer around the corner, tense with anticipation.

I sense a shift behind me, and a voice whispers, "What are we waiting for?"

"Jareth," I reply to my companion. "He'll never know what hit him."

"Oh, I won't, will I?"

I freeze. _Crud._

Slowly, I turn around to see Jareth standing over me, eyebrows raised.

_Then that means…!_

I leap to my feet just in time to hear a faerie inquire innocently, "My King, are you in here?"

I dash forward to retrieve the precariously-placed trap, but I'm too late. The door swings open and a nobleman steps in; the bucket topples from its position, soaking the aristocrat in freezing water.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, absolutely mortified as I run to him. "That…wasn't meant for you…"

The faerie, shivering, is silent with shock. Mechanically, he hands me the bucket, saying, "Never mind, it wasn't important anyway." Wings drooping, he exits, leaving a trail of water in his wake.

I grip the bucket, my face red with shame, staring at the pool expanding over the floor. Fuming, I face Jareth, who is hiding a smile behind his hand.

"I win this round," he declares, vanishing to escape the bucket thrown in his direction.

* * *

The sun is setting by the time I go above deck. Mesmerized by the golden orb's brilliance, I drink in the rosy dome overhead before scanning the floor before me. While everyone has gone below, there are a few sailors tidying things up. The captain, an intimidating sort of fellow, stands dutifully at the helm. Lionel, of course, is standing right where I spotted him last.

"Still keeping an eye out for mermaids, huh?" I wager, leaning against the side with my back to the water.

"One can never be too careful," he replies with sincerity. He glances at me out of his peripheral. "What occupies your thoughts?" he inquires gently.

I release a sigh, turning over so that I can gaze at the sapphire waves. "Our mutual friend," I answer in a grim tone thinly laced with mirth. "I trust you heard what happened?"

"From the King himself," comes the even reply.

Why am I not surprised?

"And this troubles you?"

I bite my lip. "Well, yes…and no. Do you think I'm being too serious about it?"

"I think you're being honest," he assures me kindly, facing me with understanding in his eyes, "and, if it makes you feel better, Jareth did the same thing to me this morning."

I feel a small smile escape my somber countenance. "Thanks, Lionel. I appreciate knowing I'm not the only one suffering under His Majesty."

Watching me for a moment, Lionel opens his mouth like he's about to say something; he seems to decide against it, however, and gives me an empathetic nod before bowing and departing.

As his footsteps recede, I look down into the glistening waves. A flash of gleaming silver catches my eye and I can't help but chuckle in disbelief: a mermaid. If only Lionel had stayed a moment longer.

"He just missed her, didn't he?"

I look up to see Jareth standing nearby, arms folded across his chest, like he'd been there for a while.

I nod, feeling a tingling mirth raise my spirits ever so slightly.

"I wanted to speak to you about something." He announces, his tone serious.

"Yes?" I ask, turning to face him.

"At Umbral, humans are a rarity," he begins carefully, "and I want us to take the necessary precautions."

"Precautions?" I ask, feeling anxiety seep into my being. "Such as…?"

"Oh, just little things," he reassures me, "your glasses, for example. I'll have Selene enchant your sight so you won't need them. Frankly, they look out of place here."

"Oh," I answer with relief, "okay."

"And," he continues, "with your body type and profile, you could pass for an elf. Just keep your ears covered, and you'll be fine."

"Thanks for the tip," I answer. "I'll keep that in mind. Would someone want to do me harm if they knew I was a human?"

"No," he answers quickly, "I just don't want to attract any unwanted attention."

"I see."

We watch the sunset in silence, observing the sun as she sheds her golden petals, scattering them across the ribbons of scarlet and cerulean.

"Have you been enjoying your time thus far?" Jareth suddenly questions, breaking the silence.

"Yes," I reply after some hesitation.

He looks at me quizzically.

I move away from the side of the ship. "It's about your prank earlier…" I admit quietly, clasping my hands behind my back.

Discerning as always, Jareth saves me the trouble of explaining by realizing, "I went too far, didn't I?"

I heave a sigh, glad he understands. "Yes," I answer with certainty. "Frankly, I don't know if I should be rebuking you or laughing at the absurdity of it all." I give a tired smile, running a hand through my hair. "Remember who you are, Jareth," I remind him cautiously. "You're a king, but you're also _representing_ a King. Around friends, it's all good fun, but what would people think, those who didn't know your history?" I purse my lips, feeling like I'm walking on eggshells. "Just…don't take your faith lightly. Christianity is still unknown in this world, and Avalon and its people are the only ambassadors here."

Jareth has been silent this entire time, allowing me to voice my thoughts without interruption. "I know there are consequences for my actions, Christine," he says softly. "I _am_ a king after all. I am well aware of the public image I need to maintain, even more so since I came to know Christ."

Inside, I mentally cringe. _I feel like I've insulted his intelligence. _

"But, I thank you for being honest with me. Most people would have kept their thoughts to themselves unless they felt the Spirit led them otherwise. Thank you for being an open reminder. We all need people like that—myself included. But, I sense that I offended you with that prank." He looks me in the eyes, "Realizing the repercussion of my actions, I promise not to put you in situations that make you uncomfortable. I am sorry."

About to forgive him, I stop myself short. "Hold on," I say, narrowing my eyes in suspicion, "no, you're not!"

His solemn expression breaks into a frank grin. "You're right," he chuckles smugly, "the look on your face was absolutely priceless!"

"You are a complete dork!" I cry, lunging for him.

He evades me easily, causing me to almost lose my footing. Regaining my balance, I spin around to face him. "Oh, it's on!" I declare, proceeding to chase him around the empty deck. I cut him off when he seeks refuge behind the mast. He feints left and right but I match him move for move. As I do this, a thought strikes me. _Wait a minute. This seems…familiar?_

Jareth takes advantage of my hesitation to slip by me.

The observation forgotten, I pursue him, leaping over a crate to catch up to him. He is quick, however, ducking under the sails to evade me.

We continue this game of cat and mouse until I find I can no longer keep up. Giving a tired laugh, I lean against the side to rest. "Oh dear," I say as he joins me, "that was fun."

Smiling, he slips an arm around my shoulders. Timidly, he inquires, "All is forgiven?"

Content to lean into his embrace, I reply with sincerity, "Yes, all is forgiven."

We watch in silence as the sun closes her eyes and slips underneath the rippling covers of her aquamarine bed.

"Thanks, Jareth," I say, "for inviting me. I'm glad we can have this time together."

I feel him lean down to rest his head on top of mine. "Me too," he admits. "You smell of lavender," he suddenly murmurs, causing me to giggle.

"Yup," I confirm, "and you…" I turn so I can get a whiff, "smell of cinnamon. You certainly add spice to my life!"

It is not long before the sun's pale sister awakens from her slumber and raises herself up. A beacon of soft brilliance, she summons her children, which glimmer like diamonds in the indigo sky.

_The constellations_, I realize, _I don't recognize them. What a realm this is, Lord. I am honored that You would grant me the rare opportunity to experience it. Thank You. _

"Well," Jareth remarks as the moon admires her reflection, "I believe we should retire."

"Very well," I reluctantly agree as we turn to walk down below. Descending, we're grateful to see lanterns overhead light the stairs before us.

"Oh," he remembers as we stop at my quarters, "is there anything _else_ I need to be aware of, mischievous one?"

I give him a sheepish grin. "I short sheeted your bed."

* * *

**Of course she would have one last trick up her sleeve, even if it's a tiny one. ;)**

**That being said, (Disclaimer!) I actually borrowed the dialogue concerning the mirror from Star Trek Voyager's Q, played by the fantastic John de Lancie. His character has been inspiration for Jareth's Jumping ability, as well as his more mischievous pursuits. I wouldn't be surprised if they were somehow related!**

**Now, some things you might want to consider regarding this chapter...**

**1. What do Christine's and Jareth's "scents" say about their characters, as well as their interactions?**

**2. Based on what you've seen of him thus far, what do you think about Lionel?**

**In the next chapter, we will reach Athica, and meet some _very _interesting characters!  
**


	4. The Avonlea Family

**Hello my dear readers! I hope all of you have been well. Guess what? Now you get to meet the family! (as well as some other _very_ interesting characters...) Enjoy!**

**~SealedHearts**

* * *

The sun rouses me with her radiant countenance, lighting a misty path out of dreamland for me to follow. It is just as well, for as soon as I regain my bearings, there is a polite knock at the door.

"Lady Christine," comes Selene's sweet voice, "have you awakened?"

"Yes," I reply quickly, sitting up, "come in!"

The faerie enters, dressed for the day in warm reds and humble browns. Her blonde tresses are pinned back, glistening in the sunlight like a halo around her child-like face. Her wings, caught in the golden rays, project shards of flickering light around the small room.

"You're absolutely beautiful," I murmur, my misty compliment causing her to blush shyly. "Have you been up long?"

"Yes, your Ladyship," she replies as she goes to my trunk to assemble the appropriate garb for the day. This time, she selects a short-sleeved, white tunic, complimented with a light blue bodice and skirt.

"That looks lovely," I remark, examining the bodice closely. "Is that gold thread?"

"It is," she confirms as she fishes out a pair of leather shoes from the bottom of the chest.

"Wow," I marvel, causing her to give a quiet smile.

I change quickly, waiting patiently as she laces up the bodice. "You're really good at that," I comment as I watch her work.

"I have had lots of practice," she reveals, "as I used to serve under the matrons of the Avonlea family. I must admit, it is good to serve under a young woman again."

Noticing she keeps her head bowed, I assume she's blushing again.

"Am I correct in assuming you mean the Royal Family when you say 'Avonlea?'"

She nods.

"I didn't realize Jareth had any siblings. What can you tell me about them?"

"His Majesty is the oldest of five," she explains as she brushes my hair. "The second is Grigel, his brother. Besides him, our King has three sisters. The oldest is Diana, and she is the only faerie. Because of this, Diana represents Avalon in the Order. While she is the youngest member in the council, she is known for her wisdom. The two remaining siblings are twins named Lanelle and Ember."

I consider asking about Jareth's parents but decide against it. _It might seem like I'm prying…_

"King Jareth's family resides in Athica, so you might get a chance to see them during the festival," Selene remarks as she finishes.

"Thank you," I reply, "and I would like to."

"Oh," the faerie exclaims, "I almost forgot." Gently, she slips my glasses off of my face. Placing a slim hand on one of my temples, she closes her eyes and concentrates. As her wings begin to shimmer, I feel a tingling warmth spread behind my eyes and dance under my eyelids. Withdrawing her hand, Selene severs the connection.

I blink in response to the peculiar sensation, aware that stars swim in my view. As the spots fade, my sight begins to sharpen and my surroundings assert their natural definition. "Oh my gosh," I murmur with growing excitement, "I can see crystal clear! Is this permanent?" I search her flawless face, eager for an answer; I am dismayed when she shakes her head.

"Unfortunately not. By the time we're back in Avalon, your sight will return to what it normally is."

"That's a shame," I confess with a disappointed sigh, "because this is absolutely fantastic!"

"Breakfast is in a few minutes," the faerie reminds me as she turns to leave. "By then we'll be close to Athica's port, Ygdrani."

* * *

It isn't long before we reach the port. Taking care to keep my hair down, I join Jareth on the deck. Outfitted in a royal blue vest with black breeches and polished boots, he stands erect, sapphire eyes intent on our destination. In the King's presence, I can't help but find I stand a little straighter, more confidently as I drink the scene before us in wide-eyed wonder. The sun, in all of her brilliant splendor reveals rows upon rows of thatch roofed buildings; from stables to inns to forges, it's clear this port is thriving in prosperity. Goblin merchants, dressed in gaudy finery, call out their products to passerbys with their raspy voices. Pixies flit through the bustling crowds of elves, dwarves, and other creatures I can't identify. I watch as one of the flying imps plucks an earring from a stately elvish noblewoman (!) engaged in a deep conversation; the creature snickers, vanishing with a small audible _pop!_ The poor woman whirls around, searching for the origin of the close sound. Unable to find the source, she returns to her companions, none of them noticing the sneaky theft.

Feeling sorry for the lady, although glad I don't have anything valuable on my person, I follow Jareth and the nobility as they step onto the dock after the ship has been secured.

"This…is amazing!" I breathe in awe. Even as I say this, I see the mischievous pixie from before reappear and buzz straight towards Jareth. "Watch out!" I exclaim, moving to intercept.

Jareth, however, with knowing smile, opens a hand to the winged imp. To my surprise, the creature halts and quickly accepts the invitation, alighting upon the open palm.

His eyes a sparkling shade of green, the pixie has a dark body that is humanoid in form yet sports willowy limbs. The hands exhibit claws which gleam threateningly in the sunlight. The creature's gossamer wings, thin and grey, display spindled patterns that are as detailed as a spider's web. Even as the pixie grins innocently at Jareth, I notice him hide the glittering bauble behind his back.

"Your Majesty," the pixie flatters with a flourish of a bow, "it has been a long time since you graced Athica with your presence."

"And I have a riddle for you, Phalax," Jareth replies, bringing the creature to eye level.

"Oh, do tell!" Phalax prompts, his wings quivering as he sits down.

"What is sly enough to slip away, yet foolish enough to get captured?"

The pixie racks his brains before he notices the disapproval in the King's words. "Hey!" Phalax exclaims when he realizes what the answer is. He suddenly lets out a squeak of protest when Jareth plucks the earring from his clawed grasp. Rising to his full height of five inches, he fumes, "I stole that fair and square!"

"Impudent, little sneak!" Jareth rebukes the thieving imp, "You _know_ better than to steal from the Elves."

"It's only a bad thing if I get caught," Phalax retorts, yet it's clear he's unnerved by Jareth's glare. "Never mind," he declares, rising into the air, "I didn't want that trinket anyway. You've changed, King. I don't know how, but I want no part of it." He disappears with a little _pop!_, leaving a puff of smoke in his wake.

I glance up at my spiritual kin, who's shaking his head in disbelief. "That git," he mutters, holding the earring up to the light: a gleaming ruby. Gripping the jewel in his gloved hand carefully, Jareth says to me, "I will return shortly."

I watch as the Fae King disappears into the bustling crowd, making his way to the noblewoman, who is now browsing a series of scrolls set out by a dwarf. She turns around in curiosity when Jareth gains her attention. After observing the courtesies, I watch them converse. Suddenly, she puts a hand to her pointed ear and registers the jewel's absence. Even with her calm demeanor, I can tell she's grateful to receive the valuable piece back.

"That was very kind of you," I compliment Jareth when he returns to the group.

"Sometimes Phalax is more trouble than he's worth," my companion confesses. "The last time I was here, he was attempting to make off with a king's crown! He doesn't seem to realize the political tension he could have created. That noblewoman was the niece of Nicholas, one of the councilmembers in the Order. If Phalax had taken something more valuable than jewelry, we could've had a problem."

"Is the peace that fragile here?"

"Normally, no, but let's just say thievery has been on the rise in the last few years. While nothing has happened to provoke unrest, everyone is certainly more wary now. But never you mind that. Keep your wits about you and you'll be fine."

"Good to know. Now, where are we going from here?"

"Straight to Umbral."

"But, how will we get there?"

He smiles, taking me by the hand, "Why, we'll Jump of course."

* * *

"Oh…my…goodness!" I breathe in awe, craning my neck to drink in the entire scene.

Jareth had brought me straight to the castle. The vast citadel, its stone as pale and smooth as a pearl, looms over us. With its graceful and stately towers, the building is an impressive sight to behold. Even as we stand at the bottom, I can make out the stain-glass windows high above, their fragile beauty gleaming in the white sunlight.

"The castle is called Cestral," Jareth explains, "At night, it gleams like starlight based on Umbral's general temperament. If the people are discontent in some way, Cestral's light is dimmed."

So, in other words, the castle's one giant mood ring.

"It's also located in the exact center of the capital, so if you ever get lost, you can use the castle to find your way."

And one big compass.

Watching the nobility and servants walk on ahead of us, I ask, "Can we go in?"

Jareth smiles, aware of my anticipation. "Actually," he chooses, "I thought we would go out into the city and explore. This first day is really meant to give the guests who live farther away a chance to arrive in time for the night's activities. That being said, it's best to do most of your shopping now before it gets _too _crowded. We'll retire around noon, and I'll show you around Cestral personally," he promises.

"Fair enough," I reply, turning to see that Lionel has joined us. "Let's get started!"

* * *

It isn't long before we come to an area called the Drachea District. "I take it Drachea was one of the Kings?"

"Queen, actually," Jareth corrects me. "She was a Dryad, a race related to the Elves, who are known for their skills in elemental magic. They say that there is no sorceress alive who was as powerful as Drachea."

"That's pretty neat," I remark. "Based on the name, I thought Drachea might've been a dragon."

"Dragon?" He chuckles in surprise, "My dear, everyone knows dragons don't exist. What an absurd notion!"

I consider shooting back a retort when I catch his joking smile. "Very funny…" I mutter, playfully punching him in the arm.

I've barely finished speaking when _it_ hits us like a wave, causing the three of us stiffen.

Spiritual darkness.

"Why didn't we sense anything earlier?" I ask tightly as the Spirit beats inside me with warning.

"We were in the outskirts," Jareth offers, clearly unsettled. "I…never realized how much evil there was here."

Lionel, who nods in agreement, attempts to maintain his composure. Turning to me for a comparison, he inquires, "Is it like this at your medieval festivals?"

"Yes," I answer slowly, "but it's never been this strong before. Maybe that's because here…"

_It's real_. The Spirit finishes.

I suppress a shudder.

Lionel and I look to Jareth, who's deep in thought. "Since we've just arrived," he reasons aloud, "we can't exactly go back to Avalon." He raises his gaze to us, his jaw set. "Just remain sensitive to the Spirit. He'll tell us the areas we need to avoid."

That being settled, we wind our way into the current of the chattering crowd. A variety of scents swirl through the air as venders advertise their exotic goods. The sea of people parts briefly as soldiers on horseback gallop through the throng and down an alleyway.

"Making their rounds, I see," Lionel observes as the three of us gravitate towards a forge breathing fire and spitting sparks.

After we observe the blacksmith for a while, I spot a jewelry shop across the lanes of foot traffic. As I turn to cut through the waves of people, I notice the two men linger in hushed discussion. Realizing I'm watching them, Jareth terminates their private conversation and turns to explain. "Lionel and I will be at the armory. We won't be gone long."

About to go with them (swords!), I stop myself. Somehow, I think this is something the two of them want to do together. "All right," I acquiesce, "I'll be looking at the jewelry."

"Here," Jareth says, depositing a small purse of money into my hand. "In case anything speaks to you."

"Thanks! I'll see you two later!"

Within minutes I'm browsing an assortment of glittering baubles. Frankly, it's difficult to find something the Spirit doesn't flare up at. Leaving the pendants, I move onto the rings. I sigh. Everything's so…gaudy. Isn't there anything simple yet elegant? About to give up, I halt when the glint of a sapphire catches my eye. It's a small, silver ring; curls wind around the band before sheltering the modest jewel like…

_Like a faerie's wings_.

Wordlessly, I slip the ring onto my finger. _And it fits_.

"How much is this ring?" I ask the vender, a red-haired dwarf.

"Five knutes," he declares proudly.

"Five?" I exclaim, checking the satchel Jareth had lent me: fifteen knutes total. "That's more than I thought it would be."

The dwarf answers briskly, "One more remark like that and it'll be eight."

"I meant no disrespect," I reply hastily, "Here." I pay him the allotted amount before taking the ring and leaving. _Maybe I should've tried my hand at haggling. I feel like I was ripped off. _"Well," I decide, admiring the ring on my finger, "I'll enjoy this regardless."

Not aware of my surroundings, I let out a surprised, "Oof!" as I collide with someone; immediately, I feel gloved hands brace me to keep me balanced.

"Sorry," I say, glancing up at the individual, "I wasn't watching where—"

I find I'm faced with a tall man hooded in a scarlet cloak. Feeling uneasiness skitter up my spine, I back out of the stranger's grasp. His hood, casting a black shadow across his face, prevents me from determining what race he's from. Slipping into the appropriate formalities, I give an apologetic curtsey, "I beg you to forgive me for my idleness, milord."

The man says nothing, save for answering my words with a cool bow.

Finding nothing else to say, I quickly slip past him and into the crowd. Furtively, I steal a glance behind me, only to see the stranger continues to watch me. A moment later, he turns and vanishes into the throng of people.

_Weird, _I think before snatches of conversation grab my attention.

"Murder?"

"Yes, one of the councilmembers was murdered last night!"

"Which one, pray tell?"

"Caius, the dryad."

I freeze, allowing the speakers—two nymphs—walk by me.

"Do they know who is responsible?" the younger asks.

"No," the older replies with a shake of her glossy head, "He was found in his chambers dead."

"Do you think the festival will be cancelled?"

"I know not," answers her sister, "but we shall see."

_Murder?_ I think, feeling an iciness steal into my being. _I need to tell Jareth about this when he and Lionel return._

When they find me, I relay what I've heard.

"This is grave news," Jareth agrees.

"Do _you_ think the festival will be cancelled?" I ask, echoing the nymph's concern.

"No," he replies, "but the guards will probably be doubled. We should see what Diana knows."

"Does that mean…?"

"Time to show you Cestral." He finishes with a smile.

* * *

After showing me the great hall and the ballroom, Jareth leads us down a long corridor to the library at the end. As we stroll through, the stain-glass windows to the right casting shards of color along the stone floor. "If you can believe it," Jareth was saying, "Cestral's collection of books is twice the amount of Avalon's."

The three of us come to the entrance which is guarded by soldiers. "Your Majesty," they acknowledge, opening the doors in unison.

We're about to step through when something streaks by and latches onto the Fae King. "Jareth!"

"Ember, dearest," Jareth answers, returning the embrace, "it is good to see you." He turns to me. "Christine, I would like you to meet my sister, Ember."

The young goblin facing me embodies her name as her eyes glimmer with a soft warmth. Her dark face is smooth and flawless, and her black hair is adorned with threads of gold. If I were to guess her age in human years, I would say she was a teenager.

"Your Highness," I address the princess with a deep curtsey. "It is a pleasure to meet a member of the Royal Family."

"And you must be the mortal my brother has told us about." Ember replies, beaming with quiet delight.

After the young princess and Lionel exchange greetings, Jareth lowers his voice. "If you are here, then the others cannot be far behind."

The guards, of course, have been holding the doors open the entire time. They are about to close them when another form shoots through the opening and hugs Jareth's neck: Lanelle.

"Jareth!" she squeals, "I _knew _that was your voice!"

"Lani, my dear, how have you been?"

Lanelle, true to Selene's description, is the mirror image of her twin sister. Spying me, she practically lunges for me in her girlish excitement. "And you are Christine!" She exclaims confidently, her weight throwing me off balance momentarily. "Do you want to know how I knew? Goblins have an acute sense of smell! You smell like flowers. Have you been around Umbral yet? I hear there's going to be a Siren tonight, and that her voice is _heavenly_, and—" Halting mid-sentence, she spins around and we see two figures emerging from the library in deep conversation.

Once these individuals exit, the guards close the doors with finality.

"Grigel! Diana!" Lanelle cries, "Jareth's here! And Lionel and Christine—oh yes, you must come and meet her!"

My face growing warm at Lanelle's attentions, I watch as Grigel regards his older brother. With his black hair pulled away from his face, the goblin's pale, sunken eyes gleam like emerald fire against his dark skin. "Your Majesty," he acknowledges Jareth with a formal bow.

"Grigel," my companion entreats, "it has been a long time since I have last laid eyes on you." He enfolds the prince in a hug, but it is clear his sibling does not return the affection. "How have you been?"

"Well," comes the curt reply. The goblin glances in my direction; I curtsey in respect. "Milady," he returns with a nod, but there is no warmth in his greeting. His eyes lingering on me a moment longer, Grigel then turns to speak with Lionel.

Jareth, whose face betrays his discomfort only for a moment, leads me to his final sibling. "And this is Diana. She represents Avalon in the Order."

Diana is as serene as her name implies. Clothed in crème silk with a bodice the shade of pastel roses, there is a grace in her fair countenance that is undeniably from the Spirit. Her jade eyes shine with a wisdom that is beyond her years, serving to contrast the raven hair that falls in ringlets down her back. Her wings, of course, shimmer like diamonds in the light.

"Your Highness," I begin with a deep curtsey, "it is an honor to meet you."

"And I, you," Diana returns kindly. "I have heard a great deal about you. I want to thank you for being God's vessel. Every day, I praise Him for the life He has given me."

"Your words make me glad," I reply, aware a blushing smile accompanies my answer. "Your brother is most kind to have me as his honored guest, as well as gracious with respect to my ignorance. Umbral is a beautiful city."

"Yes, and the unity here is what makes it beautiful." She agrees.

"On that note," Jareth slips in, "Diana, I need to speak with you."

As brother and sister move to an empty part of the corridor, Lanelle entertains me with her knowledge of the Festival's many activities. It seems the ball that will take place tomorrow night is a masquerade! Inwardly, I smirk. _That's right up Jareth's alley._ The young goblin is telling me the differences between elves and dryads when Jareth and Diana rejoin the group. From the councilwoman's solemn face, it seems Jareth informed her of Caius's death. While I'm sure she was already aware of it, the public unrest must be just as unsettling.

She is about to speak to me when a goblin nobleman enters with letter in hand. Without a word, he makes his way to Jareth.

"Do I address Jareth Avonlea, King of Avalon?"

"I am he," my companion replies, regarding the messenger calmly.

"Sire," the dignified goblin bows, extending his message.

"Thank you," the Fae King answers, accepting the letter and watching the courtier depart. Silently, Jareth unfolds the document and reads its contents. "I figured this would come sooner or later," he admits, glancing up at us all. "I've been summoned for an audience with Gaston, Head of the Order. If all goes well, it shall be cause for a celebration."

Sensing the undercurrent of dread laced with light sarcasm, I look to him for an explanation.

Jareth gives me a wry smile. "Gaston is my father."

* * *

**So our heroine has met (most of) Jareth's family. From what you have seen thus far, what do you think about them? **

**Also, it sounds like things are beginning to get tense. Regarding the history of Umbral, what could murder bring about? Who could be responsible?**

**Well, you'll just have to wait and see! ;)**


	5. Mistaken Identity

**Hello, my dear readers! Thank you for patience! Here is chapter 5! I hope you enjoy! :)**

**~SealedHearts**

* * *

"If you would excuse me, I will only be a short while." Jareth says briskly, striding down the hallway and exiting.

A moment later, Lanelle drags the rest of the group into the library, announcing they have to see something about a korrigan. Lionel turns back, giving me a knowing glance as the doors close behind them. I look at Diana, who merely shakes her head in amusement.

"Come, my dear," she says, taking me gently by the arm. "Let us away."

Before long, we are walking in a hallway with large windows that overlook the city below.

"Wow," I whisper, peering down, "there are so many people!"

She smiles. "I'm glad this is your first time here," she remarks, "for your innocent enthusiasm is a reminder to the rest of us not to take the simplest things for granted." She leads me to a bay window, motioning that I should sit on the couch below.

As I arrange myself so that I am comfortable, Diana sits opposite me in a graceful fashion.

_Even when she's sitting, she's elegant,_ I observe, amazed.

"I was hoping this would be a time," she begins, "where we could get to know each other. If you have any questions regarding our family, Umbral, anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask me."

"Oh," I exclaim, surprised and slightly embarrassed, "that is very kind of you."

"You can speak freely in my presence, Christine," Diana reassures me, her emerald eyes gentle, "for this will be like a conversation between two sisters."

"I suppose that is what we are, isn't it?" I realize. Having been given leave, I now seriously consider everything I've seen and experienced. "If you think this too personal, I'll ask something else, but why does Jareth look different from all of you? The blond hair and blue eyes? Were they recessive?"

My question causes the faerie to laugh, her giggles sounding like the tinkling of chimes. "The reason behind his appearance is a long story, but I do not mind telling it," she answers, drawing her feet up underneath her. "The Jareth you see now is not his true form. That is Sarah's influence."

"Sarah, huh? Actually, do you mind starting at the beginning?"

"Of course not. In your world, you learned about the Underground from the movie—that is what you call it, yes? What your people did not know is that the movie is based on fact. Sarah really _did_ wish her brother away and truly _did_ captivate my brother with her words. You see, before _Labyrinth_, my brother was the Goblin King in every sense of the title. Upon meeting Sarah, however, he chose to conform himself to a figure he knew would entice the young girl. The movie was made when Henson heard Sarah talking about this whimsical world she had visited. Realizing the popularity of his counterpart, Jareth decided to keep the form he assumed during Sarah's trial. Unfortunately, the movie also prompted several to follow in Sarah's footsteps; a great many people deliberately wished away their siblings or others they detested, unaware of the danger they were invoking. None, sadly, were able to pass Jareth's tests."

"Then that means…"

"Those Wished Away became goblins; as a result, their lives were erased from people's memories. Only the Wishers remembered as penance for their impulsive actions. And once a person has been turned into a goblin, he or she is unable to leave the Underground."

"Oh no…"

"It is one of the laws of that realm which cannot be altered. When you came, however, everything changed. Your trials in the Labyrinth were unique in that you were fighting for yourself. To this day, I wonder why Jareth forced you to Run under such strange circumstances, but not even he can fully explain it.

"After Jareth came to know Christ, he chose to Seal the realm so that the power of a mortal's wish was rendered worthless and left unanswered. While there is no way for those Wished Away to return to your world, the opportunity was able to be used for God's glory."

"Wow," I reply. "That certainly explains a lot."

"I know it is a lot to take in," Diana smiles apologetically.

"And…" I venture cautiously, steeling myself for the explanation, "what happened to those who accepted the dreams Jareth offered them?"

The councilwoman's face hardens ever so slightly. "While many people would simply exhaust the thirteen hours, others would advance far enough to either the 'dream stage' or past the Escher Room when Jareth would confront them. Even after everything they had experienced, some would succumb to their dreams without hesitation. Why not seize the opportunity to escape the world and its frustrations? Blinded by their desire, these Runners were ignorant that such an offer was a trap."

_Oh, Father…_

"Once they realized the horrifying truth brought on by their selfishness, it was too late. They were completely under his power, and nothing could be done." Here she shifts uncomfortably. "After Jareth did with them as he pleased, he would either turn them into goblins, or cast them back into the maze. Eventually, through endless wanderings, these Runners would literally become part of the Labyrinth."

I receive the explanation in solemn silence, glancing down at my clasped hands. _And to think I almost… What he might've…_

A fair hand enters my view and gently rests upon my own. I glance up to see Diana's comforting countenance looking back.

"I thank God that He gave you the strength to resist your temptations," she says sincerely, "because He used you to transform us both."

I manage to return a small smile. _Right, the past is the past. While it's useless to dwell on something that cannot be undone, we can learn from it. Thank You, Father, for protecting me back then. _

"So," I say, seeking to alleviate the heavy feelings that hang like a dark cloud, "does Jareth _really_ dance and sing like David Bowie?"

"Goodness, no!" Diana replies quickly, "My brother is much more refined than that. Although, I doubt I shall ever forget his expression when he viewed _Magic Dance_." She begins to giggle, "Jareth was absolutely mortified!"

Chuckling, I switch subjects, "So, in reality, Jareth looks like you since he's now a Fae?"

"Yes. I've tried to convince him to abandon his human form, but he claims he's grown used to it. People know him by that appearance."

"Makes sense," I agree before laughing again. "Besides, think of all of the mischief he could cause if people _didn't _recognize him!"

* * *

It's not long before we return to the library, now closer than when we first met. By this time, Jareth has returned and is in a conversation with Lionel, the twins are chattering together animatedly, and Grigel is standing off to the side, absorbed in his thoughts. Our entering catches the Fae King's attention and he leaves Lionel to greet us.

"My dear sisters," he apologizes, wrapping an affection arm around each of us, "I thank you for indulging in my absence."

"What news from Father?" Diana inquires as he walks us towards the group; I glance up to read his expression when he answers.

"Their plan is to double the guards for the present. There appears to be no way to trace the murderer and an inquisition would only escalate the rumors and the unrest." He replies gravely. Noticing our solemn expressions, he adds, "_We_, however, can pray and keep an eye out for any suspicious activity."

At his words, I think about the stranger I ran into earlier. _It's only a concern if I run into him again. Besides, given Umbral's size, the odds are slim we'll have another encounter. _

"Does Phalax count as suspicious activity?" I tease, earning a smile from my companion.

"Only if he goes too far," he replies with a soft chuckle.

By this time, we've reached the group.

"So, Lani," Jareth projects over the chatter, "what do you have planned for us?"

The goblin slowly turns, giving us a delighted smile.

As she herds us out of the room like a mother hen, I fall in step with Lionel.

"So how did everything go with Jareth?" I venture out of the corner of my mouth.

"Tempers flared; their argument could be heard three rooms away. Suffice it to say, Jareth remained calm longer than he has in the past. While he's made tremendous progress, the relationship is still very much a strained one. I would say Jareth's been handling the disownment well."

"Disownment?" I whisper in surprise.

"Let's just say his father didn't take kindly to Jareth's conversion. His Majesty rules over an Underground named Dakiel."

"And since he's also in the Order, then that means the second oldest son is reigning over this other kingdom?"

Lionel nods before furtively scanning around us. Satisfied Griegel is out of earshot, he replies, "Like father, like son; he shares his father's sentiments regarding Jareth's change. The twins appear to be oblivious to the entire situation, and Diana is doing her best to represent Avalon, as well as to not let her ties with Gaston influence Order decisions."

"Well," I reply with a touch of bitter humor, "now I know what to pray for."

"Indeed," he echoes as we exit Cestral's cold walls and come into warm sunlight.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon is spent flitting from one activity to another. We watch a play which is put on by a trio of dwarves, their story reminiscent of Grimm's fairy tales. Next we participate in some of the dances in the square of one of the nearby Districts (Ajess District? I'm getting all of these places mixed up!). While the dance lessons back in Avalon pay off, other dances are completely foreign to me. Note to self: NEVER do the Ogre's Stomp, especially when you suspect your partner has had a bit too much to drink!

The sun is setting by the time the twins decide to do some shopping. The moment they receive their purchases, Lanelle drags me back to the square, where I see people gathering around the fountain.

"Come, Christine, come!" Lanelle squeals with excitement, "the siren's about to begin!" Gripping my hand tightly, she weaves us through the crowd to the front, parcels and all.

I look over the mass at Jareth and the others, but the Fae King merely gives me a wave of his hand: We'll be fine. Enjoy yourself.

Turning back, I sit down by my goblin friend, whose face gleams with gleeful anticipation.

"There she is! Her name is Minerva Sterling. She's come all the way from the Aderan Sea to perform."

Even as Lani is speaking, I watch a slender woman with silvery hair make her way to the fountain with a fluid stride. Sitting upon the edge, she arranges herself until she is in a comfortable position. Clothed in ribbons of aquamarine and sapphire, the siren firmly grips a small harp made of white shell. Fingering the strings with reverent delicacy, she waits patiently for the people to quiet; with a strum of her fragile instrument, Minerva begins:

_Pilgrim, how you journey  
On the road you chose  
To find out why the winds die  
And where the stories go._

_All days come from one day_  
_That much you must know,_  
_You cannot change what's over_  
_But only where you go._

_One way leads to diamonds,_  
_One way leads to gold,_  
_Another leads you only_  
_To everything you're told._

_In your heart you wonder_  
_Which of these is true;_  
_The road that leads to nowhere,_  
_The road that leads to you._

Even as Minerva supplements the repeating lyrics with her harp's rippling voice, I can't help but think of Jareth and his family. With Grigel ruling over Dakiel, that explains his cold reception towards both of us. And even so, from what I've seen of him, he seems to have a soft spot for Diana. _Oh, Father, please work within this family. Use Diana and Jareth as you see fit, and keep them strong through Your love._

_Each heart is a pilgrim,  
Each one wants to know  
The reason why the winds die  
And where the stories go._

_Pilgrim, in your journey_  
_You may travel far,_  
_For, pilgrim, it's a long way_  
_To find out who you are..._

The applause is generous, and the siren receives the praise with a humble bow from her perch. With a strum of the strings, she begins another song spoken in a language of old.

* * *

The moon has risen by the time we return to Cestral. After having bid Diana and the others good night, Jareth, Lionel, and I make our way to the wing of the castle that's been reserved for our group. Even as we come to a spacious room which looks like a common room due to the fireplace and furniture, I ask, "Does this mean Selene and the others are here too?"

"Yes," Jareth replies. "With so many people attending, the Order has forgone class distinction and instead has grouped everyone by party." He gestures towards the different stairwells nearby. "The nobility is on the right, my quarters are in the center, and you will be sleeping with Selene and the others on the left."

As he explains the layout, we notice Lionel standing off to the side; in the firelight, his weary face displays a gracious patience. Jareth, perceptive as always, gives his companion a small smile. "Fatigued already, Lionel?" he teases lightly, "The Festival has only begun!"

Not caring to match with a retort, the aristocrat answers purposefully, "I will humor you in the morning." He respectfully bows before mounting the stairwell on the right.

"Pity," Jareth murmurs, glancing at me, "because he's going to miss all of the excitement."

At my curiosity, he takes my hand and we vanish.

A moment later, we reappear at a balcony. "Where are we?"

"At an inn called the Pixie's Tonic. I visit this place on occasion because it's what you might call 'a hole in the wall.' I discovered it a few years ago. It's the perfect place to get away, but is also ideal for viewing the capital at night."

At the mention of the capital, I take in the scene before us, drawing in a breath. The balcony Jareth's Jumped us to is high enough to give us a bird's eye view of the city. Even as the moon casts her pale veil over the quaint houses and sleeping shops, it is Cestral which captures the attention. In the darkness it gleams like a sword, its surface as smooth as a pearl's. Despite its creamy exterior, there is an aqua tint to the castle—the people are content.

"Look—it's starting!" Jareth suddenly exclaims, pointing to the right of the glossy building.

Fireworks.

Loud trills announcing their ascent, loud explosions of sound and light reverberate through the inky sky. Swirls of cerulean and petals of pink shatter the darkness with their blinding brilliance, their shards gracing the darkened city below.

"Gorgeous," I breathe as we watch the dazzling display; I hear excited cries and delighted shrieks below. "Thanks for showing me this, Jareth," I whisper, looking up at him.

"I knew you would enjoy it, love," he replies, clearly pleased.

When the stunning show ends, Jareth takes me back to the wing.

"I've had a wonderful day," I say, "Thank you for making it special."

"I am pleased you are here," he replies warmly, "and tomorrow will be just as exciting! Sleep well, my dear."

Even as I ascend up the appropriate stairwell, I can't help but grin. _Today _has_ been exciting._ Entering the dark room, I wait for my eyes adjust before moving forward. With the little moonlight available, I make out rows of beds, a faerie occupying each of them.

The only empty spot left is highlighted by the pale beacon's rays. My trunk is at the foot of the bed a white chemise folded neatly on top of it. I change quickly, surprised to find how comfortable the garment is. Slipping into bed, I offer God a prayer of joy, thanking Him for the friendships He's given me, before drifting off to sleep.

It is well past midnight when I hear a loud pounding at the door.

I bolt upright when the incessant knocking comes again.

"Open up in the name of the Order!" declares a booming voice.

What is going _on?_ I leap out of bed, throwing on a thin robe for the sake of decorum. By the time I'm done, Selene's awake and alert; the others begin to stir in dreamy confusion.

"Soldiers?" she offers tentatively.

"I hope not," I reply quickly, winding my way to the stairs. _But a killer would be worse_. Perching myself on a step, I peek into the common room to see what's going on.

Lionel and a few other aristocrats have trickled into the room, my companion striding towards the central stairwell. "My Lord?" He calls.

"Yes," comes Jareth's voice, "I hear it." He appears from his chambers dressed in nothing but a tunic and breeches, throwing on a dark blue robe with deft haste.

I tiptoe down the steps and hug a shadowed corner, sufficiently hidden from view for the time being.

The Fae King crosses the room, unlocking the door and opening it with firm caution.

Guards.

"Yes?" Jareth inquires, his steely demeanor causing the primary soldier, a dwarf, to flinch ever so slightly.

Recovering quickly, the captain inquires, "Am I addressing King Jareth of Avalon?"

"I am he."

"You, my Lord, are under arrest."

"On what charges?" my spiritual kin questions as gasps scatter across the room.

"The murders of Representative Nicholas, the elf; Councilwoman Ashlin, the satyr; and Representative Caius, the dryad."

"At what times did the first two take place?" Jareth asks with surprising calmness.

"The first was around noon. The second was a few hours ago."

_During the fireworks_, I realize with a sickening feeling. _Those weren't cries of delight_.

"In regard to the first, the Head of the Order can vouch for me as I was in conference with him at the time. As for the second, I am afraid I have no alibi."

_Which means my word would offer no support, _I reason. _At most, I would be considered an accomplice_. _Still…!_

As Jareth opens the door to admit four guards, I fly from my place. Aware my sudden appearance draws attention, I seize the opportunity to ask, "What witnesses can make this claim?"

Everyone looks to the captain for an explanation. Clearly uncomfortable with the whole matter, he replies gravely, "There is a woman by the name of Meralin who claims she saw His Majesty cut down Representative Nicholas in cold blood. As for the most recent murder, the councilwoman's family was witness. They, too, adamantly believe it was him."

"Where did these take place?" Lionel now speaks, stepping forward alongside me.

"In the Drachea District, and the other in the Ravani District at the perimeter of the capital."

"But with the people, the time it would have taken to accomplish both deeds is impossible!"

"He could have Jumped," the dwarf points out.

"And both parties are certain it was me?" Jareth whispers coldly.

"Aye, my Lord."

He is silent at this answer; after pondering, he reluctantly sighs.

"As there appears to be an incriminating amount against me, then I will comply," the Fae King decides with aloof finality, turning towards his chambers.

Because of his movements, three of the four guards move to follow him. Sensing their advance, he pierces them with a dark glare that halts them mid-step.

"Surely you will grant me the smallest of decencies?" He inquires solemnly. Without waiting for an answer, he turns away from us and stalks up the stairwell into the privacy of his chambers. It is not long before he reemerges, refreshed and fully dressed.

Even as he is escorted out, Jareth manages to sneak a glance in my and Lionel's direction. Knowing Lionel will understand the look, I pray, _Dear Lord, please watch over him. Please right this wrong!_

The dwarf is the last to leave. Casting a remorseful look at all of us, he apologizes, "I truly _am_ sorry." Turning, he closes the door behind him and they are gone.

* * *

**Oh, the suspense! I hope you enjoyed this new entry. Please, do not hesitate to let me know what you think, or if you have any questions (members and non-members alike can post). Now, regarding what you should consider for next time...**

**1. What do you think about Jareth's past as explained by his sister? In what ways has he changed concerning his transformation through Christ?**

**2. Why do you think Jareth is the one who is arrested/framed?**

**3. Based on this new information about their family, what complications (****emotional, political, etc) **** might Jareth and Diana encounter as they try to share Christ with their siblings and father?**

**4. What significance might the siren's song have within this story?**

**Also, for those of you who were curious, below is a list of the members of the Order:**

**Gaston - Head, Goblin**

**Diana - Representative, Faerie**

**Erowyn - Nymph**

**Teofil - Dwarf**

**Caius - Representative, Dryad (murdered)**

**Nicholas - Representative, Elf (murdered)**

**Ashlin - Satyr (murdered)**

**{Of course, there are other races throughout the realms, but they either do not heed this Order based on their own forms of governments, or are sub-sectioned under these seven races. Faeries, in this instance, are their own race. Pixies, in this universe, are more likely to be considered distant cousins to goblins or maybe even elves.}**

**Have a great day! ^_^**


	6. Paper Faces Part 1

**Hello, my dear readers! I hope all of you have been well! Time to see what happens after Jareth's unfortunate arrest! **

**Enjoy!**

**~SealedHearts**

* * *

I open my eyes to be greeted by cheerful sunlight, and yet I find there is little to be cheerful about. Every time I woke from chaotic dreams, Jareth's resigned face filled my mind's eye. There must be something I can do. I need to talk to Lionel after breakfast.

Even as I don a pale pink bodice with a white skirt among the flurry of servant girls, I involuntarily shiver. _Jareth's predicament isn't the only thing that kept me up,_ I confess to the Lord. _I had that dream again, but it was different this time. The glass acted like a wall and the figure and I were separated. What else happened?_ I grasp at the threads of the sleepy vision before it can unravel. _We were closer than before, facing each other. I…I put my hand up to the glass and the figure did the same. Suddenly, it pressed its dark hand against the glass and passed through the barrier like it wasn't even there! It sought to seize my wrist—and then I woke up._

Even as Selene brushes my hair, I find my heart beats like a frightened bird. _Something is going to happen, Lord. I understand that now. Please guard me, and keep me wary of Your Spirit. _

"What a night we've had," Selene's voice cuts into my thoughts, her comment making me aware of how quiet the room actually is.

"Yes," I answer softly, even as the faerie skillfully entwines ribbon through my dark locks.

"Take heart, dear one," she reassures me with a gentle stroke on the head. "His Lordship is under God's protection. No harm will befall him lest it is the Father's will."

I manage a small smile. "Thanks, Selene."

Even as she curtsies and departs, I can't help but feel her words also pertain to my unsettling dream.

* * *

As soon as breakfast is over, I meet with Lionel, who leads me to a private study. Dressed in an attractive emerald tunic and black breeches, the nobleman reclines in a chair by a window; absorbed in his thoughts, he rests his chin on top of a gloved hand.

I take a seat opposite him, spreading my skirt out like a flower's petals. We are both silent for a moment until I inquire, "What does Jareth want us to do?"

Lionel takes a moment to answer my question, choosing to rise and cross the room to the fireplace, whose ashes have been swept out. Leaning against the mantelpiece, he runs a hand through his brown hair and heaves a sigh. "He wants us to speak to the witnesses and verify their certainty that they saw Jareth commit these crimes. If there is any doubt, any at all, that will help us."

"I understand," I reply, nodding in agreement before noticing he watches me carefully.

"There is something else on your mind," he remarks, his tone sending the message I shouldn't deny it.

Feeling his patient eyes rest on me, I become self-conscious. "It's…not that important," I answer weakly. "Jareth's predicament is what we need to focus on."

"You are bothered," he bluntly states, returning to his seat so he can properly face me, "and in order to focus on aiding Jareth, I need to be able to depend on you. If something is preoccupying your thoughts, it would be wise to disclose it before we go any further."

The genuine concern written across Lionel's face convinces me to grant him a resigned smile. "Very well. At first I thought it was nothing, so I put it aside, but…" I tell him about the dreams, as well as my analysis of them.

He is quiet as I reveal this information to him. "Be wary," he finally cautions. "God has spoken through dreams before. Keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary and I will do the same. Now," he says, changing subjects, "Jareth's family has been informed of recent events. The twins conveniently want to do some shopping in Ravani, so the ladies and Grigel will go there to see what they can uncover. You and I will go to Drachea and speak with Lady Meralin. Hopefully, she just confused His Majesty with someone else."

* * *

It's not long before we're among the bustling throng of people again. Their countenances have changed though… The joyful giggles sound more nervous, and the excited chatter fades into wary whispers. While some wear masks of attempted cheer, others forsake the pretense and give into the gloom that hangs over them.

"It's different here," I remark as I follow Lionel, weaving in and out of the swirling crowds and past stationed guards.

"News travels fast," he replies, ignoring the cold stare of a Dakiel goblin nearby.

We come to the fountain, which mischievously flicks sprits of water on us. I wait for my companion to get his bearings before we cut through the crowd to a slim alleyway dotted with quaint buildings. "I believe she has her shop in this vicinity," the nobleman was saying. "She's a dwarf who specializes in glassware."

Passing by a few elves and goblins, we come to a fork in the street.

"I'll go left and you go right?" I propose.

He nods in agreement. "We'll meet back here in about ten minutes. If we fail to locate her, we shall look elsewhere."

We separate.

As I stroll down the small lane, I can't help but notice the glaring sunlight has been reduced to gleaming patches sprawled over the cobblestone path. Without the sun, it's almost chilly. Passing by a pair of guards that stand watch, I glance in the shop windows as I walk through. Books, no. Armory, cool, but not it. Some kind of postal service, nope. Apothecary, nu-uh. A pub? Definitely not. Little homes are sandwiched between the businesses like sardines, their windows shuttered to turn away curious onlookers.

To my chagrin, I come to the end of the alleyway, aware I've come back to the fountain. Stepping into the light, I bask in the sun's warmth and watch people walk by for a moment.

"Time to head back," I choose, "just in case I missed anything." Turning to go back down the curving alley, I suddenly feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

_Someone's watching me,_ I realize, tensing, _but where, Lord?_ I look back to scan the crowd, the buildings encompassing the people. Nothing. I whirl around to check the alley, and I feel my blood run cold.

The man in the red cloak.

Several feet away, he casually leans against the wall of the pub, regarding me in cool silence.

_Time to go_, I decide, taking a few steps back into the sunlight before turning and dashing away. The sound of footfalls alerts me the stranger is following in pursuit. _Oh my gosh,_ I think as I increase speed, _he really _is_ after me!_ Quickly scanning my surroundings, I instruct myself, _The crowd—shake him off there._

I plunge into the wave, losing myself among the faeries, dwarves, elves, and other creatures. Making a beeline past the fountain to the opposite side of the vicinity, I then duck down and travel to the left. If I circle around, I might be able to catch sight of Lionel and—the guards. Taking refuge behind a barrel stationed outside a tavern, I risk a peek. The red-robed man is in the midst of the disorienting crowd, checking every petite brunette in pink he can possibly find.

_Just what does this creep want?_

I jump when I hear a small _pop! _and a sly voice whisper in my ear, "And what are we doing that makes us look _very _suspicious?"

I whip around to see a certain pixie fluttering next to me.

"Phalax!" I exclaim relieved, "I'm sure glad to see you!"

"And why," he asks, although clearly pleased, "should you be happy to see a thieving scoundrel like yours truly?"

"Because you can help me."

Phalax displays a naughty smirk. "And does Mr. High-and-Mighty know of this little…collaboration?" He whispers, referring to Jareth.

"He would understand, trust me," I assure the pixie, who is beginning to quiver with anticipation. "Do you see that man over there?" I point out my stalker, who is now beginning to scan above the crowd. I shrink back behind the barrel just as Phalax catches sight of the stranger.

"What do you want me to do? Scratch him? Pull his hair?"

"Anything you can do to buy me some time. Be creative."

The blue creature flits close to my face. "What do I get in return?" He asks, surveying me with eyes trained to catch the slightest of glints.

"I…" I find I'm at a loss when he suddenly flies towards my hand. Perching on the back of it, he attempts to pull the sapphire ring off of my finger.

"This," he declares, "or no deal."

I bite my lip in hesitation before realizing I have no choice. _Now I know why You had me buy this_, I think as I reluctantly slip the ring off for the pixie to take. _Hindsight's 20/20 after all._

Phalax lifts the trinket into the air with ease. "At your service," he chirps before disappearing with a little _pop!_ A moment later, he reappears hovering over the stranger, who is now looking in my direction. Even as the man spots me, I see Phalax swoop down.

I leap from my place and sprint for the alleyway's entrance. "Sorry," I cry, pushing by pedestrians, "excuse me!"

I hear my stalker give a growl of pain: Phalax has bitten him.

Now at the beginning of the corridor, I risk a look back. The little pixie is gallantly buzzing about the stranger's covered face, infuriating him. The man suddenly shoots a dark glare towards me and, in one fierce swipe, mercilessly clubs Phalax to the side. The distraction taken care of, he races towards me without delay.

I turn and tear down the alleyway, screeching around the left corner. Spotting Lionel standing nearby, I watch as he comes to meet me. "Stay there!" I shout, dashing by him, "I need you to cut him off!"

Aware the stalker is close behind me, I am relieved when I catch sight of the two guards from before. Hearing our frantic footsteps has alerted them to attention, and they seem surprised to see me streak towards them.

"What is the matter, milady?" the dwarf asks as I stand panting before them.

"Him!" I manage, turning to see my stalker round the corner. Even as I slip between the soldiers, I watch the cloaked man halt his purposeful advance at the sight of the guards.

He displays a smile that sends a shiver down my spine. "Very clever," he remarks for the first time. "Very clever indeed."

Sword drawn, the elf steps forward. "What business do you have with this maiden?" he questions.

The stranger steps back in response to the inquiry, only to turn and perceive Lionel blocks his escape. Instead of fleeing, however, he thrusts a glance in our direction. "I'll just have to keep you guessing," he declares. In one fluid movement, he spins, arching the end of his scarlet cloak around himself—and disappears in a flurry of shadow.

When he's convinced the threat is gone, Lionel is by my side in a flash. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you," I reassure him, "and thank you for acting on such short notice."

"Do you know why that man was after you?" the elvish guard inquires.

"I have no idea," I reply with an exasperated sigh. "I ran into him once before, but thought it was just an accident. Now I know otherwise."

By the time I finish speaking, I hear the familiar _pop!_ and Phalax alights upon my shoulder.

"Phalax, are you okay?" I ask gently.

"Just barely," he replies, wings drooping. "He hit me pretty hard."

"I'm sorry you got hurt, but I thank you for your valiant effort," I praise him, watching him perk up ever so slightly. "Your timing was perfect. But, tell me, did you see his face at all?"

The pixie shakes his head. "No. He wore a mask of sorts," he answers, glancing up at me suspiciously. "Just what are you mixed up in?"

"I wish I knew," I say honestly, watching the small creature abandon his perch and flutter into the air.

"Well, this wasn't a total loss," he reminds me triumphantly, stretching the pain out of his little body, "as I now have a new trinket to enjoy."

"One which you _didn't_ have to steal, I presume?" Lionel inquires, raising an eyebrow.

At the mention of his disgraceful occupation, Phalax notices the guards eye him with wary interest. "About that…_that_ is for another time," he answers quickly, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

I shake my head in disbelief before turning my attention to the two guards.

"And here I thought today's shift would be boring," the dwarf mumbles.

I chuckle, saying, "Well then thank you for being so quick to take action."

They salute at my commendation.

"'Twas our pleasure!" he exclaims, at attention.

"Do you require any further assistance?" The elf questions me.

After a quick glance at Lionel, I reply, "No, I believe we will be fine. Thank you."

As we depart from that end of the alley, Lionel is quick to entwine my arm along his own.

"Do you think this is what my dreams meant?" I ask softly, once the soldiers are out of hearing.

"I pray that was the event played in its entirety," he answers, anxiety lacing his words. "Hopefully he was just an unstable individual, one which did not stand on premeditation."

"Hopefully," I echo. _But only You know for sure._ "So," I change subjects, "did you find anything on your end?"

"Yes," Lionel confirms, enthusiasm returning to his voice, "Lady Meralin lives just at the end of this street."

It's not long before he leads me to a charming shop filled with glittering baubles and fragile glass creations. _Phalax would have a field day in this place,_ I think as we enter.

As I linger to admire crystal figures of mermaids, Lionel makes his way to an old dwarf in a corner who is surveying the mingling shoppers with trained eyes. Although I keep my attention fixed on Lionel, who is inquiring if Meralin is available, I notice a rather peculiar glass statue with wings for arms and a scaly tail. "What creature is this?" I murmur to myself. "A sea-fairy?"

"That, elfling, is what they call a 'human,'" answers a wizened goblin to my right.

"Really?" I prompt, successfully keeping the amusement out of my voice.

"Well," he admits with a dry chuckle, "they say humans can travel both the skies and the seas. Of course, I've never seen one before. I wouldn't be surprised if they were just a myth."

"A myth, huh? Fancy that." I comment, stifling a grin, when I see Lionel motioning me over.

I leave the goblin and trot over to my companion.

"He's gone to inform Meralin of our calling," Lionel explains, and before he's finished speaking, a female dwarf emerges from a back room.

"Yes?"

"Lady Meralin?" Lionel bows, and I follow suit. "My name is Lionel Farron, and this is Christine Heartilly. We were wondering if we could ask you some questions regarding last night."

"But of course," she obliges, nodding. "What would you like to know?"

"Are you absolutely certain it was His Majesty you saw?"

"Yes, I know it was him," she replies with conviction, and she suppresses a shudder. "He…was merciless," she whispers as she relives the horrific memory.

_She's telling the truth, _I realize. _Without a doubt, she believes Jareth is the one responsible._

Shaking herself of the event, Meralin sets her eyes on me, as though acknowledging my presence for the first time. "And you…" she begins, and her pained demeanor suddenly twists into cold fury. "_You_ were there."

_Hold on a sec. Did I hear right?_

"Excuse me?" I say, puzzled.

She jabs a bony finger in my direction. "You were there," she exclaims, her voice rising, "and you stood by and just watched with perverse glee! How _dare _you show your face to me, you little _witch!_"

* * *

**Whoa! What the heck? Looks like the plot thickens!**

**Things to keep in mind for next time...**

**1. What do you think about Christine's changing dream? In what way could events be escalating?**

**2. Regarding Phalax and the ring, it's neat to see how God works within our lives, allowing us to see the whole picture when He's finished. Thinking about your own life, how has God provided for you in an unexpected way?**

**(Also, since Jareth is no longer in charge, it's implied that Lionel has now taken the lead being besties with the King and the highest in rank among the nobles. Although we are not present for it, before meeting with Christine, he assigns the nobility the task of keeping their eyes open for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary.)**


	7. Paper Faces Part 2

**Hello, dear my readers! Happy Easter! He is risen! ^o^ I hope you are excited for this next installment. It is the longest chapter yet, but that's because we will be covering a LOT of ground. Please let me know if there is anything that doesn't make sense or if you want me to clarify something for you. I will either PM you or place my answer at the bottom of the page. Enjoy Paper Faces, Part 2!**

**~SealedHearts**

* * *

Shocked at her accusation, I take a step back. "You must be mistaken," I offer, trying to remain calm.

"I never forget a face," the dwarf seethes, ignoring the stares she's attracting. The older dwarf lays a gentle hand on her arm; steeling her rage in response to his touch, she growls decidedly, "Get out. Get out and _never_ show your face here again."

I feel Lionel slide a protective arm around my shoulders. "We're sorry to have bothered you," he says apologetically. "Thank you for your time."

As we leave the distraught woman, I have to stop myself from making a hasty exit.

Heck, if I did that, then I'd _really_ look suspicious.

"Ah, geez," I mutter, giving an exasperated sigh once we're outside. "First I'm chased by a creeper and now I'm an accomplice to a murder! I mean, we _did_ go and watch the fireworks, but that doesn't mean we were looking for someone to kill!"

"I know that the two of you are innocent," Lionel assures me as we depart from the alleyway, "but since she believes you were there, that _might_ rule out the idea of a conspiracy."

"Conspiracy?"

"Think about it. One of the places Jareth was at was with the Head of the Order. If we assume Jareth Jumped from there…"

"Than that could imply Gaston is behind it…and by killing off the councilmembers, that means…!"

"He would want to destroy the unity that has been established here. Order would give way to chaos, and another Age of Transgression would be upon us." He finishes grimly.

"Not to mention Jareth would be giving Christ a bad name. Who would want to be part of a faith that murders people?"

"Exactly. However, we need to remember this is merely speculation. We have to see what Grigel and the twins have learned first. We're to rendezvous with them in an hour at the library."

"Right," I reply, although Meralin's passionate claim still echoes in my ears. _Who would do such terrible things? Whoever it is must realize that not only Jareth's reputation is at stake but the unity of the kingdoms as well. _Everyone_ would be affected. And someone matching my description? That doesn't make sense… I don't know anyone here. _The dwarf's angry expression comes back to my mind; shaking my head, I attempt to get rid of the alarming image.

Recognizing my feelings, Lionel says, "Come. I hate to see you this way." He takes my hand and we vanish.

"Where are we?" I ask, surveying the new surroundings. We are in a courtyard, but what makes this one special is that it is vacant. Practically no one is here! Stone buildings, the only occupants, yawn over us, casting us in their blue shadows.

"The next district over," he explains. "Since most of the activities are in the larger districts, it leaves places like these almost deserted. However, you can find things here you will not find anywhere else."

Passing by a few faeries and sirens, Lionel leads me to a kind-faced goblin who has set up shop underneath an awning. Sweet aromas swirl in the air and spices sting my senses.

"What shall it be, milord and lady?" she inquires warmly, her smile a much needed welcome.

"Two dulcins, please," Lionel replies, taking out the appropriate coins and handing them to the cheerful saleswoman.

"Thank ye, good sir. One moment and I'll have them here for ye!"

_Dulcins?_ I wonder.

A few minutes later, the goblin turns back to us, handing out small parcels. My gift, some kind of round object wrapped in a white cloth, fits neatly in the palm of my hand.

Gripping the treat carefully, I follow Lionel to the fountain nearby, which portrays a merman and his child along its base. Sitting on the edge with practiced balance, I draw my feet under me. I gingerly peel back the wrappings of the package, discovering the item is a tiny ball powered in cinnamon. Taking a cautious bite, I taste something sweet like sugar but with the soft texture of bread. "This…" I determine as the flavors dissolve in my mouth, "is delicious! You said these are 'dulcins?'"

Lionel nods. "I am glad you like it," he remarks with soft satisfaction. "I also thought we could use the quiet."

"Yes," I answer him sincerely. "It's good to be away from all of this hectic activity."

We sit in soothing silence, enjoying the peaceful trill of the fountain and our sweet delicacies without any disturbance.

_Please fill me with Your peace, God. _I pray, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. _Please calm my spirit as only You can. _I steal a glance at Lionel, who is chewing thoughtfully. _Bless him, Lord. He is such a comfort to me—just like You. I praise You for the kindness You have shown me through him. It's exactly what I need. _

"How are you feeling?" the nobleman inquires gently after some time has passed.

"Better," I reply, "thanks."

Clapping me on the shoulder, he responds, "Even if the circumstances appear grim, we have a God Who is greater, remember? He is on His throne, yes?"

"Always," I answer automatically.

"Then He is still in control," he implies with encouragement. "All things can be used to bring Him glory in the end."

"Yes," I agree softly, "I need to remember that."

_You can even use a crazed lunatic, can't You? You can use anything and everything for Your glory. Who knows? Maybe this threat to the peace will draw others to You, teach them that true peace—the kind that transcends our worlds—can only come from You. It's amazing to think about what You've done with the Underground. I wonder what Sarah would think if she saw it now. Heck, what would she think of Jareth? On that note…_

"Lionel?"

"Hm?"

"What can you tell me about Jareth's family? What are your opinions of them?"

He is silent before he answers, choosing his words carefully, "Seeing as you've only met them briefly, I do not mind further illuminating their characters for you. But where do I start? Ah, I have it. When Gaston was the Goblin King, he had a queen named Lucille. She was tenderhearted and noble, loved by all of their subjects. Jareth was their first child and, many years later, she also bore Grigel and Diana. Throughout the years of youth, I am ashamed to say Jareth became quite brazen and selfish, traits which were brought out due to the pressure he felt being next in line. However, in the midst of his conceit, he fortunately inherited an acute sensitivity from his mother which tempered his more prominent qualities.

"Grigel became the more serious of the two, and sought to please Gaston in many areas of his conduct. Eventually, he came to view his interactions with their father as a form of competition against Jareth. Now that both sons are ruling over their own Undergrounds, I wonder if Grigel retains this mindset.

"As for Diana, she was, and is, like her mother in all respects. Often times, she became the mediator between the two brothers, managing them and keeping the peace the best she could. Through those experiences, you can see how she became the diplomat she is today.

"Unfortunately, while our beloved Queen watched her children flourish and mature into their characters, Her Majesty never lived to see Jareth become King. She was arrested by an illness which could only be cured by a rare herb found in the Bog. It was on Jareth's coronation day that she passed, just mere minutes before the herb was located. With Jareth on the throne, Gaston went to fulfill his duty as the Head of the Order; Grigel, naturally, followed his father while Diana elected to remain with Jareth in the Underground."

"What about Ember and Lanelle?" I pipe up, "Where do they fit in?"

"While Gaston resided in Athica, after the period of mourning, he wed a goblin named Valetrix. She bore him the twins. The years passed, and each respective party was content with the separation of the family—with Jareth ruling the Underground, and Gaston reigning as the Head. Despite their tense relationship forged during Jareth's youth, father and son remained tolerant of each other, even if it was through cold civility. However, as you can infer, everything changed when Jareth decided to answer Sarah's wish, as well as his later becoming a Christian."

_No kidding, _I think. _It's amazing what an effect one person can have on other people._

"I mentioned a disownment yesterday. That was Gaston's response to Jareth's conversion and later blamed our King for Diana's supposed 'corruption.'"

Lionel pauses in his narrative, trying to sort out the remainder of the events in his mind. "For a time, there had been an almost cautious felicity between the two of them, but that fragile trust was severed when Jareth changed. To be frank, Gaston was enraged by the various transformations, believing Avalon's creation to be 'a desecration of the Underground,' and Jareth's acceptance of Christ as 'blaspheming everything a goblin stands for.' He disowned Jareth and the new land almost immediately. As a result, he sent Grigel to rule over Dakiel, declaring that his second son was now his sole successor and praising him as the embodiment of the goblin ideal. Now, Gaston represents Dakiel in the Order, leaving Diana to represent Avalon. Despite his desire to disregard Avalon, the politics of Umbral force Gaston to acknowledge the faeries and their King; they are, essentially, a new race and have the same rights to fairness as the other realms.

"As for the twins, they remain here in Athica. It is the only life they've ever known, having never set foot outside of Umbral's boundaries. While I am afraid I will mar the impressions you've made of the twins' characters, I confess it is saddening that they refuse to visit either Avalon or Dakiel. I fear they will become quite spoiled—if they are not already—should they choose to remain within their complacency."

"So with Grigel in Dakiel, and with the rest here in Athica, what of Valetrix?" I venture.

"Now," the nobleman replies, bowing his head in thought, "_she_ is a mystery. No one in Avalon has seen her, not even myself. She seems to be very private, restricting herself solely to the Royal Family. All we know is that after the disownment, she withdrew to Dakiel and resides there still. Any insight into her character is merely speculation or rumor."

"And…how does Jareth feel about all of this? His disownment, and these recent events?"

"Contrary to what you know of his carefree nature, Jareth is a very private individual. Nowadays, despite our friendship, there are some topics he refrains from discussing even with me." At these words, Lionel sighs, crossing his legs as he leans back slightly. "God knows how often I pray for him." He gazes up at the sky above, now partially lost in thought. "He cannot…he _should not_ lock his feelings up inside, as doing so produces more harm than good. His relationships with Gaston and Grigel have always been strained, and the disownment has served to only widen the rift. And with the murders and now his arrest…" his voice trails off as he exhales in a sigh of frustration.

Running his hand through his hair (a habit of his, I've realized), Lionel turns to face me again, this time with conviction in his expression. "God does not want us to face our conflicts alone. He wants us to not only draw strength from Him, but to also rely on the support and encouragement of fellow brothers and sisters."

"I know what you mean," I confirm softly. "So many times, we think we can tough it out and get through it ourselves, but God works through others, and uses that fellowship to further glorify Himself."

"Right," the nobleman agrees. Shifting position so that he faces me more directly, he looks down upon me with a determined expression. "Christine, I…would like us to make a pact."

I survey Lionel's features, keenly aware of the seriousness in his words. "Yes?"

"Let us promise one another that we will both be there when Jareth needs either of us. Regardless of circumstances, we both need to be strong for Jareth—to cover him in prayer and to give him strength through support and…" he searches for the word.

"Loyalty," I finish with a small smile. "I couldn't agree more."

At my acquiescence, Lionel's features soften with relief. "I believe…it would be wise for us to cover this sentiment in prayer as well."

"Would you like to pray?" I offer.

"It would be a pleasure to."

With the peaceful hum of the fountain to accompany us, we bow our heads.

Feeling a gloved hand gingerly take my own and hold it firmly, I hear Lionel begin:

"Father," he says with a hint of timidity, "we come before You, the Holy One of Heaven, seeking Your guidance. I thank You that You hear us and that You are faithful to listen. I pray that this endeavor is pleasing in Your sight, and I ask that You would anoint this promise with Your blessing. Bind us together through Your love and tender grace. Please, use us any way for You to draw Jareth closer to Yourself; speak through us in order to remind him that he is not alone. Grant us discernment on how we need to conduct ourselves and on what words You would have us use. I pray, Father, that we would be sensitive to Your Spirit and Your will. I know You are in control of Jareth, of his family, and of these circumstances. You can use anything and everything for Your glory, and, indeed, we give you that glory in advance. We petition Thee on behalf of our brother, and we thank Thee for Thy provision. In Your Son's most holy name, we pray. Amen."

"Amen," I echo.

I feel him gently squeeze my fingers before releasing them.

"Thank you, Lionel," I say. "It was wonderful to hear you pray."

He nods, a receiving of my heartfelt compliment. Standing, he raises his countenance to the sun with calculations in mind. "It seems the hour is upon us," he remarks with a thread of disappointment.

_Right_, I remember, _we're to meet Lani and the others._

"And," he says, offering a hand to me as I rise from my seat, "we also have something to look forward to tonight."

"What…oh!" I exclaim with happy realization, "The masquerade ball!"

"The masquerade ball." Lionel confirms with a smile.

* * *

"Milady, you look stunning!"

"I most certainly do," I agree, admiring myself in the glass before me. "Wow…"

I turn to catch all of the detail of the beautiful gown. Stained the color of the midnight sky, the dress certainly flatters my figure. The bodice hugs my torso, the center displaying a pattern like a faerie's wings. Comprised of silver thread, the top wings blossom over my chest while the bottom wings flare down and wrap around my waist to end at my back. The skirt, ribboned along the end with shining thread, swells like a rose and houses my legs in lush velvet. I raise up the thick skirts to see my feet have been fitted into heeled shoes the color of sapphires, the ends around the ankles bordered with silver. I turn my attention back to Selene's activity—she placing a necklace of diamonds around my neck; within the web of glitter is nestled a small cross. Assisting the fae, I lift my hair up so Selene can clasp the ends in the back. With the jewelry in place, I become aware of how it calls attention to the bodice and my bare shoulders. Even as the faerie pulls my hair back, I survey the small puffed sleeves which end as my elbows, revealing velvet that hugs my forearms underneath trailing false sleeves.

"Almost finished," Selene says, as though I am impatient.

"Take your time," I reassure her, "I know you don't get to do this often. Enjoy yourself."

"Yes, milady," she consents with a shy smile. "Tell me what you think."

I gingerly feel my locks, aware she's woven…stones(?) through them. "Pearls?" I guess.

She giggles, "No. Here, let me make it easier." She places a small mirror behind me slanted downward. Looking into the large glass that's before me, I perceive from the smaller reflection she has threaded strings of diamonds along the top of my head before bundling them in the center with an ornate clasp, causing them to flow down like ribbons.

"You have done a beautiful job!" I praise her, causing her to blush in her humility. "No, I'm serious!"

"I can't take all of the credit," she reminds me. "His Majesty was adamant this was the dress for you."

"And His Majesty has great taste," I reply with a smirk. (Wow, I never thought I'd hear myself say that!)

"Oh!" Selene exclaims. "I almost forgot the last piece!"

Wings shimmering, she skirts by me to my trunk. Leafing through the contents, she produces a mask with black ribbons at the ends. Returning to my side, she hands it to me. Highlighted by veins of silver, the mask depicts an indigo butterfly. Obediently, I balance the mask on the bridge of my nose as Selene ties it in the back. The final piece firmly secure, I stand back and survey the finished look.

Giving an excited twirl, I declare, "Perfect. Absolutely perfect!"

* * *

We assemble in the common room before departing for the ballroom where the masquerade will be held.

As it turns out, when Lionel and I had returned to Cestral, we learned that the family Grigel and the twins interviewed also believed Jareth was the one who murdered the councilwoman. They even spoke of a girl with him who matched my description. _The plot thickens, that's for sure, _I think grimly. _And it seems covering the crime scenes won't yield any clues because otherwise they'd have more information than just this imposter. How is it that this guy can leave no trace of evidence? I wish Lionel and I could've gone to the actual places-some 21st century thinking might've helped... _

Even as these events occupy my thoughts, I notice Lionel falls alongside me as we tread through stone corridors. Striking in stormy grey attire complete with a winged mask, he whispers, "You look beautiful."

Blushing under my ornamental facade as my mind settles, I reply, "Thank you. I _feel_ beautiful. And you…" I search for an appropriate adjective, "you look handsome. Very mysterious."

My comment earns me a rare smile.

"Do you know how long the ball will last?" I inquire.

"Several hours I believe. There will be food and drink available to those who wish to rest. Sometime around midnight there will be fireworks. After that, we can stay longer or retire to bed."

"Sounds good to me." I answer. "I intend to make the most of it!"

By this time, we reach the ballroom—and the sight before us takes my breath away. Within the spacious marble room are several dancers in resplendent dresses and decorative coats. From behind glittering masks, they chatter excitedly as violin music floats throughout. Dazzling chandeliers hang from the ceiling high above us, the dangling crystals brilliant in the light. On the far side of the expanse are tables with assortments of fruit and other edibles I don't recognize. Servants line the windowed walls, attentive to the guests that continue to converse.

"Wow…" I whisper, turning to view the room in its entirety, the glare from the chandeliers making me dizzy with excitement. As I bring my eyes back to the scene before me, I see the faeries have dispersed and are mingling within the sea of dancers. The music suddenly changes tempo—the opening of a waltz.

As guests begin to pair up, I look around, dismayed that I have no partner. Turning, however, I'm relieved to see Lionel gracefully bow before me. "Christine," he asks with the utmost politeness, "would you care to honor me with a dance?"

"But of course," I reply, smiling as I curtsey. "I would be delighted."

We take up our positions amid other dancers, and move in accordance with the enchanting melody.

As he leads me within the revolving circle we've joined, Lionel compliments, "You have become a wonderful dancer. More relaxed."

"Well," I reply on cue, "that's because I had a wonderful teacher."

The expression on his face is almost shy. "I…I have enjoyed the time we've been spending together. I admit, it's been a long time since I've known someone who can be so understanding."

_Someone like you, you mean, _I think, smiling inside.

"And who _also_ knows Jareth is a handful?" I tease.

He chuckles. "Naturally."

Content in the other's presence, we continue to turn and twirl around the floor. Even as we lead into the second dance, I feel a giddy excitement bubbling up inside of me. _This is so much fun, Lord! Thank You, God, for the masquerade, and thank You for this new friendship! _

Certain that I'm beaming, I'm not surprised when Lionel remarks, "It cheers me to see you happy once more."

"Me too!" I exclaim, giddy in pure delight.

As the dance ends, we reluctantly part and bow to each other.

"Would you like to rest for a while?"

"Yes, thank you," I agree, following my companion to one of the tables at the far end. Even as we leave the circle, I see new dancers take our places. Surveying the delicacies before us, I select a cluster of grapes. Popping one in my mouth, I watch as Lionel plucks what appears to be a dessert.

Turning to face me, he comments, "You're just radiating with joy. I pray that nothing shall hinder your happiness for the rest of the night." Suddenly, he raises his eyes and looks past me. Sighing, he mutters, "You _must_ be joking."

Puzzled, I turn around to see a regally outfitted dryad standing before us. Clothed in an emerald coat, the brunet individual fixes his grey eyes on me. "So how do you like the dress I picked out for you?" He questions with the hint of a smirk.

I look at the two men before comprehending the meaning of his words. "_Jareth?_"

The dryad flashes me a smile, "The one and only."

"What—but—you—"

"Oh, look, the second dance is another waltz! I insist you join me for this one," he says gaily, slipping a gloved hand around my waist and pulling me away from the table. I glance back to see Lionel shaking his head in disbelief.

As the disguised Fae King and I slip into the appropriate spots, I take the opportunity to hiss, "What are you _doing here?_"

He chuckles softly as we begin to spin. "You _have_ improved on your dancing," he says, ignoring the stumble I make, which causes him to compensate for my sudden momentum. "Completely flawless."

"_Jareth._"

"Yes, yes, my dear," he replies lightly, "but I ask that you lower your voice. Let's just say those guards forgot I have more than one form." The sub-text: They forgot I can become an owl.

"You broke out of _jail?_" I gasp. "You shouldn't be here!"

"No, this is the place I_ should_ be, per God's instruction," he replies matter-of-factly. "If the murderer believes I'm out of the way, it will be easier to expose him. Not only that, but both my father and sister are here, as are the other two members of the Order. I have Grigel watching Diana, and I plan on keeping an eye on my father. Since he is the Head, it's only a matter of time before he becomes a target. Besides," he pulls me a bit closer so he can whisper in confidence, "what better place for murder than a masquerade ball?"

His words cause me to tighten with unease.

"Then you should also know that both sets of witnesses still believe you're responsible," I answer evenly, "and apparently _I'm_ running around as your accomplice."

"Really?" Jareth replies, genuinely intrigued. "The plot thickens indeed."

"I just can't keep anything from you, can I?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, the perks of being me!"

"You gixie," I mutter as the song ends. "Just be careful, alright?"

"Of course." He says with a wink, but I sense the sincerity in his answer.

As we bow in conclusion, he says, "Now I'm afraid I must leave you."

"What do you mean?" I ask before noticing an elf (!) standing beside us, waiting patiently.

"Are you engaged, milady?" He inquires respectfully, eyes flitting from me to the dryad.

"Not at the moment," I reply with a curtsey, aware Jareth is taking the opportunity to slip away.

"Then I am in luck," the elf declares.

"How do you mean?"

"I have been watching you all night, and I must say you are an exquisite dancer."

_Is this guy flirting, or is he just being polite? _I think, _No one could've missed that stumble I made!_

"That is most gracious of you, milord." I answer as we prepare for the next dance. As two lines form, I take my position opposite my partner and face him. The cue being a solemn violin's song, we begin.

"Please, call me Roland," the nobleman insists as we slowly step towards each other with the purpose of switching places, "and how might I address you, Princess?"

"Princess?" I echo as the dancers next to us take their turns. (_Jareth, what the heck have you gotten me into?)_ "What make you think that?"

"Your dress," he explains, "is worn by our royalty, is it not? I've lived all over the elvish kingdoms, and yet I have never seen you. Pray tell, what is your name?"

"Princess…" I can't lie to him, but if I tell him my name, he'll figure out I'm not an elf. Option C then. "…Incognita," I say with an apologetic smile.

"Incognita?" the elf muses, interested. "You choose to remain anonymous, then? Very well, I shall play by your rules."

The two lines separate and we create a circle with two other dancers.

"You are," Roland guesses, "the secret daughter of King Serahain, come to the ball with purpose to spite him."

I shake my head, amused as he and I weave in and out of our circle.

"You are here to meet your lover, using the masquerade as your cover."

Again, I shake my head. "One more guess," I tease.

He ponders as the other dancers weave around us. "You are a sorceress merely posing as a princess, waiting for the right time to strike an evil villain who has wronged you in some way."

I laugh before giving him my answer. "Imaginative, but I'm afraid I'm not as exciting as you paint me. I'm actually staying in Avalon for the time being, a guest of His Majesty, King Jareth."

We depart from the small circle and reform our two lines.

"The Fae King?" he remarks with eyebrows raised. "An elf among faeries? Then you know of things which are distorted by rumor. Is it true he has changed?"

"Yes, he has," I confirm as we cross paths again. "The entire land has been transformed. It really is a beautiful place. I'd love to introduce you to His Majesty, but, truthfully, I don't know where he is at the present."

"This _Christianity_, though, that is a worrisome mystery." Roland admits, his voice tightening. "With the word that he is responsible for these crimes," he shakes his head as the others slip between us, "is this bloodshed what we can expect from the King of Avalon? Treason against the Order?"

"No," I exclaim, feeling my face grow warm at the slander, "you must believe me when I say he is innocent. If I've learned anything from being in Avalon, this new faith is one of peace and not wrath, joy and not anger. I assure you His Majesty is _not_ responsible for these deaths!"

The dance ends and we bow.

When Roland looks up at me, he regards me with a cautious curiosity. "I can see you feel passionately for the faeries. Your words have given me a lot to consider. Should we cross paths again, I would like to hear more. Thank you, milady." His face now unreadable, he bows and departs.

I sigh, retiring from the floor as the second dance commences. Somewhat relieved to catch a break, I go back to the table at the far end. "Wow, that was something alright," I mutter, gladly accepting a glass of water from a servant nearby. _But it wasn't a total loss, _I remind myself as I spy a dulcin. _He wasn't completely convinced, but at least he didn't call me a witch either. Perhaps we _will_ get another chance to talk._

I take a moment to enjoy the sweet treat's flavor before sipping my water again. Once I've emptied the glass, an attentive servant is quick to take it from me. Satisfied, I depart from the table and take a moment to stroll through the chatting guests.

_So many beautiful outfits, so many unique creatures here. And I actually got to dance with an elf! All in all, this hasn't been a bad night. Thank You, Lord, for using this time to raise my spirits. _Continuing to wander through the crowds, I notice they grow sparser the farther I meander. _I wonder what time it is… _I raise my eyes to the walls, searching for a clock.

"Excuse me, but would you grant me the honor of this next dance?"

Turning to politely decline, my words get caught in my throat when I see who addresses me.

Red Death.

* * *

**Wow, what a surprise! What will happen next, I wonder?**

**1. Now that you have learned more about Jareth's family and their history, does this change your views of the characters?**

**2. What kind of message is Jareth sending with the dress?**

**3. Based on Roland's point of view, and the (possible) conspiracy theory, what do you think this murderer is attempting to accomplish? How has he been successful thus far?**

**(on a side note, the dance between Chris and Roland I based off of a dance from the 2005 Pride and Prejudice)**


	8. He Has a Death's Head

**Hello, my readers! On to suspenseful Chapter Eight! :)**

**~SealedHearts**

* * *

Draped in a crimson cloak that pools at his feet, Red Death looms over me. Framed by a velvet hat adorned with ebony feathers, the skeletal head inclines toward mine in what is merely a façade of politeness. From beneath his blood-red shroud, the stranger is fitted in ruby attire and holds his skeletal hands clasped in front of him.

_I-it can't be! _I think, stunned as the stranger stands before me. _Red Death…here!_

Even as I involuntarily step back, he is prepared for my response. With surprising agility, he overtakes my retreat and slides a bony hand around my waist. Cast in his scarlet shadow, I am pulled forward to hear him hiss, "But I insist. This dance is for the two of us alone."

The contact, as well as the words, sends shivers up my spine. Thinking swiftly, I turn into the arm wrapped around me and slip under the red sleeve to escape. "No thanks!" I exclaim, all pretenses gone.

Grasping my skirts, I hasten back to the sea of dancers. Of _course_ they decide to do another waltz! I sneak a look back but my view is obscured by twirling nobles.

_I couldn't have lost him _that_ easily… _I reason, attempting to scan the swirling couples around me. _And his words… No, stay calm and think! Where did you see Lionel last?_

I skirt by masked guests and hurry to the table at the end where a few aristocrats converse. My heart sinks. _He's not here._ Feeling the now-familiar creeper sense tingle, I whirl around to see my pursuer several feet away. A ruby pillar in the midst of crashing waves, he seems unaffected by the dancers bustling around him. As he locks eyes with me, the Spirit blazes in response, causing my heart to hammer against my ribs.

A nobleman passes between the two of us and Red Death vanishes.

_Stay at the edge,_ I instruct myself quickly. _Any attempt to lose him in the crowd will be turned against you. Maintain distance as much as possible. Lionel is your target._

I circle around the massive throng of masks, scanning for the faerie. Amid the flurry of glittering costumes, my eyes catch sight of somber grey.

_Now's your chance. Go!_

I risk cutting through the dancers and reach him within seconds. "Lionel!" I cry, laying a hand on his arm.

He turns in surprise and I realize my mistake: an elf.

"I'm sorry," I apologize quickly, "I thought you were someone else."

I step away—only to be seized by skeleton hands. "Foolish child," Red Death breathes in my ear, "to think you could flee from me."

"Get _away_ from me, you creep!" I say, breaking away from his grasp and thrusting a fierce punch to his abdomen.

As he falters in pain, I rush past him to gain a few seconds.

Even after I slide between rotating couples, I'm not surprised to feel air rush by my face. I throw a second punch in his direction, but the masked man evades my strike in a burst of shadow.

_Shadow… _I realize, _my stalker from before! _

Having lost him for now, I return to the perimeter and become aware I'm breathing fast. _He's trying to wear me out with this game of cat and mouse_._ Okay, God, I can't find Lionel and only You know where Jareth is. Then there's only one thing left I can do. It's risky, Lord, but please let this work!_

I run through the sea with determined purpose. _Red Death, come and get me! _

As I reach the center, I resist the urge to stop to see if I'm being followed. I know without a doubt he's there. Crossing the vast expanse, I burst into a nearby corridor, my heels clicking on the marble floor.

It is only when I stop that I become aware of a second set of echoing footsteps. Slowly, I turn around to see Red Death at the threshold of the swirling sea.

"I must admit," the scarlet-shrouded skeleton whispers, "I am surprised you made…so _wise_ a decision."

_Just keep thinking that_, I answer silently, steeling myself as he walks toward me with dangerous grace.

"Enough of these games!" I say fiercely, "Who are you and what do you want?"

My words cause him to halt. "'Enough of these games,' she says?" he ponders aloud before emitting a deep chuckle. "Doesn't she realize that simply is not possible?"

_His voice…something about it._

As he resumes his eerily patient advance, I circle to the right in order to maintain distance. He merely gives a cracked smile, choosing to mirror my circular path.

"Who are you?" I repeat, dismayed when a sliver of fear bares itself in my voice.

"You truly want to know that badly, do you?" Red Death jeers before halting once more. "Very well then." With one hand, he fingers the brim of his crimson hat, and with the other he grips his ghastly façade. In a descending bow, he casts his hat to the side and throws his mask to his feet.

He raises his leering face to meet mine and, despite preparing myself for the reveal, I feel shock shoot through me like a bolt of lightning.

Jareth.

_ No, _I chide myself quickly, _not Jareth…the murderer. Oh, Lord, my stalker and the murderer are the same person!_

This man, this imposter, looks and sounds exactly like the royal fae. And yet, this individual's features appear sharper, more sinister. There is a dark edge to his smile, and a cold intensity in his eyes. This guy…whoever he is…knew _exactly_ what he was doing when he chose to impersonate Jareth.

As the murderer steps forward, I slide into the familiar fighting stance; his eyes narrow in cautious suspicion.

_What are my options? Punching and grabs I can do. No kicking because the dress prevents that. It might, however, cushion blows. He's armed with a rapier, and can use his cloak. I need to get in fast if I want to do any damage. All right, every move will have to count. I'm ready, Lord. _

"So the rumors are true," comes a calm voice, interrupting our standoff.

Looking for the source, I'm relieved when I spy Lionel emerging from the ballroom. _Thank You, God._

"Are you surprised, my old friend?" the fake Jareth sneers, "Stunned that your brother in Christ would stoop so low?"

"No," the nobleman replies softly, drawing his sword, "just disappointed…"

"Now that is a shame," his adversary answers, furrowing his brows with mock guilt.

"Disappointed that someone would frame _my_ friends," Lionel finishes curtly, edging towards me.

"And makes you doubt my identity?"

"Because he was just talking with me," declares a cold voice.

Still dressed as the dryad, the real Jareth enters the room. Even as he dispels his disguise, the Fae King focuses his blue eyes on the imposter. "So, we meet at last. I must admit, the resemblance is striking."

Red Death gives a mock bow with a flourish of his scarlet cloak.

"Just who _are_ you?" Jareth inquires, unsheathing his foil—only to see his double mimic him. "Why are you killing the councilmembers?"

"I do not wish to say," the enemy replies lightly, a smirk playing about his lips. "I like keeping all of you in the dark. That's what makes manipulation all the more fun. But…enough of this ceremony. I would rather dance!" He lunges for Jareth, causing the fae to parry.

I slip a few steps back, watching their moves carefully. When it comes to sword fighting, I'd rather not risk another blade-to-the-heart scenario.

Lionel is quick to take advantage of the side Red Death has left exposed; he thrusts his rapier forward in a quick jab but is swiftly deflected.

"Ever the tactician," their opponent scoffs before retaliating with a sweep towards the nobleman's arm.

Jareth intercepts the blow, allowing Lionel the chance to duck and aim a slice at Red Death's legs.

_Blood loss_, I interpret. _Good way to slow him down_.

The imposter, however, is quick to avoid the slash by hopping back. With his free hand, he grabs the end of his shroud and spins to cover his next move.

My brothers in Christ are ready.

Parallel in their stances, they move forward in unison to thrust the oncoming attack up towards the ceiling. No words are needed between the two of them. Jareth slides his blade up to keep their enemy preoccupied while Lionel lunges for the stomach to deal the finishing blow.

Realizing his predicament, Red Death forfeits by dissolving into shadow.

Tensing, I fly from my place to aid my companions. Our backs to each other, the three of us survey our surroundings, watching for the slightest of movements. Spine-tingling laughter causes us to flinch as it reverberates through the vast room.

"I am here," sings the ceiling.

"I am here," cries a corner.

"No, I am over here," wails a window.

"Now," he declares with chilling mirth, seeming to echo from everywhere, "behold, the riddle of my being! _I am everything and yet I. Am. Nothing!_"

A silvery soprano scream sears the warm air, followed by a deafening crystalline shatter.

_A chandelier_, I realize in horror. _He's dropped a chandelier!_

I start towards the commotion—_I've got to help them—_when Lionel pulls me back with his free hand.

"Remain here," he orders with difficulty, "he's trying to split us up."

I glance at Jareth for verification, and glimpse the anguish burning beneath his mask of calm.

"Indeed, Lord Farron is right once again," crows our enemy.

Where—above!

We look up to see Red Death descending upon us, his scarlet cloak flaring around him like flames. Fighting the urge of self-preservation, I realize, _The three of us need to move as one_.

Confirming my thought, the hand at my shoulder moves to my waist and Lionel whirls me behind him in a fluid motion. Following through the turn, he uses the momentum to spin and deflect our adversary's strike to the side.

With the foe caught off balance, Jareth lunges forward. The enemy recovers however, swiftly flipping his foil up from the bottom and transforming it into a stab.

His unexpected move catches the fae off guard, barely giving Jareth time to retreat and deflect the thrust away from his vitals.

With Jareth on the defensive, the imposter turns to engage Lionel once more. He sends a horizontal sweep towards the nobleman, who counters vertically. Noticing Jareth to his left, the enemy nimbly side steps and thrusts a foot to the King's stomach. Watching him reel from the blow, Red Death turns back to parry Lionel's thrust. As he shoves my companion's rapier to the side, he suddenly eyes me.

As I watch him lunge for me, Lionel's words return to me: _Be flexible._

_ He expects me to attack_, I realize, _so I'll do the exact opposite._

Calculating his distance, I wait until his blade is almost to me when I suddenly slide to his right. Taking his sword arm, I swiftly rotate my body and launch him back around towards Jareth and Lionel. He stumbles away from me, temporarily caught off guard by the change of plans.

Jareth takes advantage of our enemy's surprise by sweeping a slice towards Red Death's sword arm. The imposter barely has time to hop back, and uses his cloak to again halt Jareth's attack.

Now facing me, the enemy lunges forward once more when a grey shape intercepts the lunge: Lionel.

The nobleman deflects Red Death's strike, shoving the blade to the side.

Even as he falters, our opponent regains his balance. Gathering his cloak with his free arm, he swiftly spins and kicks Lionel hard in the stomach.

Stumbling from the unexpected blow, the fae struggles to regain his defensive posture…

Realizing the danger, both Jareth and I start forward to intervene.

Lionel raises his sword to protect himself—but he's too late.

Red Death lunges forward like lightning and plunges his blade into the nobleman's abdomen.

I stare, stunned at the impalement. _No…_

Sneering in triumph at Lionel's anguished expression, the murderer then turns his blade sharply, causing Lionel to cry out. "What an irony this is," Red Death hisses, "that the one you see killing you bears the face of your dearest friend." Satisfied with his horrific handiwork, he wrenches his rapier from the nobleman's body.

Even as I watch the blood stream down the blade, I see the nobleman fall to his knees.

Jareth lunges forth to dispatch his foe; I run to catch Lionel.

Staggering under his weight as the aristocrat crashes against me, I slip my arms under his own and gently lower the both of us to the marble floor. "I've got you," I whisper fiercely, the sounds of screams and clashing silver ringing in my ears.

I watch Lionel's face twist in agony as I prop him against my shoulder, using my dress to cushion where I can. Finding my eyes travel to the grisly wound, I swallow hard and try to keep from trembling. "I-is there anything I can do?" I ask, no longer attempting to mask my fear.

He looks down to survey the injury, and the very effort causes him to wince.

Realizing he's weighing his options, I wait in tense silence until he looks up at me.

"I...am afraid there is nothing that can be done," he answers in resignation.

"N-no," I hastily reply, gripping him tightly, "There has to be something! There has to be! Pressure, herbs, something!"

My frightened concern elicits a compassionate smile from his pale lips.

When I realize what his expression means, my heart sinks.

"No," I whisper, "no, no, no, _no!_ No, _you can't!_"

And yet, despite my words, I perceive his face is clouding into an ashen grey, and his dark eyes are losing their healthy glow.

Water splashing onto his face causes me to flinch. _Oh, _I realize, becoming aware of the tears streaming down my cheeks, _I'm crying... _

"Dear Christine..." Lionel says tenderly, gingerly taking off his gloves, "do not weep." Slowly raising a hand, he cups my cheek; his palm is like ice against my flushed countenance. "A smile suits you best."

"Please...don't..."

I feel his body tense against mine as he braces himself for a wave of sharp pain. Dropping his hand, Lionel's breath now comes out shallow and ragged.

Glancing up, I see Jareth stands in front of us, holding his foe at arm's length. As he sneaks a look back to us, I can tell he understands the grave situation. Damming his emotions from their release, he turns back to keep his enemy at a distance.

"A death's head," Red Death snickers, "he has a death's head!"

"Quiet!" Jareth growls, that single word thick with threats.

Feeling movement by my shoulder, I glimpse down to see Lionel's eyelids flutter.

"No, no!" I exclaim, "Stay with me!"

"No," he answers, locking eyes with me, "it is my time. Christine, please, listen to me—I need you to hear this. Thank you for showing Christ to me all those years ago. Thank you for sharing your testimony with me." He raises a pale hand and I grip it tightly. "I found peace...something I never thought I would find in this life…unless it was through bloodshed. I thank God every day that He used you and Jareth to speak to me. The individual I now embody…is so far removed from who I was that I…was praying this would be a time to remedy…your past impression of my character."

"And you've been successful," I reassure him quickly, "for you have been nothing but Christ to me!"

He smiles faintly at my answer. "Then know that God will provide. Do not forget...He is on His throne. Death for us is not final. It is not...the end."

Even as he speaks, I become aware of a warmth between my clenched fingers; I bite back a gasp.

Lionel is glowing, his body dissolving in flecks of soft light. Even in the midst of this shining deterioration, the dying fae's countenance radiates with serenity, the external portrayal of his inner soul.

"The crux...of our faith," he whispers, now for all to hear, "is the hope that we have in Jesus Christ."

His face seeks mine once more. "We will meet again, Christine."

"I know..." I answer hoarsely. "I'll-I'll miss you..."

"My sweet sister..." he begins to say, when he suddenly gives a sharp intake of breath.

His head sagging against my shoulder, his brown eyes freeze in an expression of tender comfort.

The brilliance about his body intensifies then shatters, the shards of light temporarily blinding me.

When I look back, I swallow a sob.

Lionel is gone.

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**The next one will be from Jareth's point of view. This being said, whenever a chapter features his POV, I will put his name in parentheses in the chapter's name.**


	9. The Raven and the Dove (Jareth)

**Hello, my readers! Here is the next installment of Part 3. I hope it proves...most insightful.**

**~SealedHearts**

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Both my foe and I are temporarily blinded when Lionel vanishes.

Even before I can fully accept the gravity of what has transpired, my opponent leaps forward, sword aimed.

_He is a being of no mercy_, I realize as I barely succeed in deflecting his thrust. Shoving the attack to the side, I force him on the defensive with a retaliating strike.

Shuffling back to avoid the slice, he regards my rapier warily. Something, however, causes him to divert his gaze past my form.

I risk glancing back, and see Christine rise unsteadily to her feet. She slowly raises her eyes to us and my blood runs cold when I perceive their intense expression: they burn with a seething fury.

_ Rage…she trembles with rage. _

I watch in horror as she starts forth in deadly silence.

Swiftly, I halt her blind charge by grabbing her from behind. Knowing her first move is to strike my solar plexus, I immediately use my free hand to lock her arms behind her. Taking my sword arm, I cover her chest and shoulders not only to prevent her from escaping, but also to guard her from harm.

"Now is not the time to be rash," I hiss, "You need to check your emotions! We don't know what we're up against!"

"I don't care!" she lashes back angrily, attempting to break free. "_I'm going to KILL HIM!_"

A sickening chuckle draws my attention back to the scarlet figure standing before us. Having sheathed his bloody blade, Red Death holds his arms open in a cruel display of antagonistic mockery. His lips draw back into a snarling smile, which makes his message clear: _By all means, come and get me._

His silent challenge has its desired effect, as the girl tries everything she can to wriggle out of my iron grasp.

Noticing her attempt is futile, the imposter's murderous sneer softens into a disappointed frown.

"Then perhaps the opposite is necessary," he muses softly.

He lunges for us, his skeletal hands like claws and his flowing garments like fire.

I close my eyes and we Jump.

* * *

We reappear in a small room, far from the horrific violence and the terrified screams. The silence that resides within the space welcomes us, seeking to unravel the tension strung through our beings, to reassure us of our safety. Even as I exhale in relief, I become aware of the charge I continue to hold fast to me.

She remains quivering in silent rage until she, too, senses the threatening environment is absent. She stiffens as the grave reality of her actions sinks in.

"I…I wanted to kill him," she admits, her voice barely a whisper yet thick with self-loathing shame. "I actually wanted to kill him."

As she attempts to ponder the depth of her wrath, I feel the tight anger in her body dissolve as quickly as it was ignited. With the mind stunned beyond belief, the body goes limp of its own accord.

Aware that her rage has cooled, I gently remove the hand holding her arms captive, and I bring that arm around to embrace her. During this movement, I allow my rapier to vanish from my sight. Now that both hands are free, I lock her in a protective cage. And yet, despite my desire to imbue her with reassuring strength, Christine remains unresponsive, a wilted lily among sturdy branches.

_Dear one… _I inwardly sigh, bending down with the intention of resting my head against her dark locks. _You who have never seen death, nor ever desired it, how great is your sorrow._

I give her a small squeeze. "Can you stand on your own?" I inquire, suddenly aware of how loud my voice sounds in the quiet room.

She nods.

"I had your things brought here. Your trunk is by the bed. I believe…it would be wise if we retired for the night."

My words seem to rouse Christine from her reverie. Raising her head, she surveys the room, noticing her surroundings for the first time.

We reside in a small chamber, which consists of the humble necessities: a single bed, a writing desk accompanied by a chair and lit candles, a water basin, and an adjoining room for hygienic privacy. Aside from a full-length mirror, the only remarkable thing about this abode is the balcony overlooking the city—a view closed off by a set of glass doors.

I release my hold on the girl so that she can straighten to her full height. I watch as she crosses the room to the simple bed, trailing a hand along the post nearest her person. Wishing to grant her privacy, I inform her, "I will be outside when you are finished."

I withdraw from the quarters and step out onto the balcony's space, making sure to leave one of the glass doors slightly ajar.

Noticing my form in the garish moonlight, I observe I remain clad in my masquerade apparel. Disgusted by the glittering finery, I murmur, "Enough of this opulence."

With a wave of my gloved hand, the emerald attire dissolves, melting into frothy feathers that are as black as ebony. The inky substance hugs my being, hardening into leather mail and dark breeches; the ragged cloak materializes through shreds of wispy shadow that drape around my frame. As the transformation finishes, a chilling breeze causes my tattered mantle to shudder like a wraith.

Better.

Surveying the darkened streets below me, I am surprised to hear sharp laughter pierce the night air. _The festivalgoers who weren't invited to Cestral, _I realize. _They are oblivious in their gaiety. They have no knowledge of what has transpired. _

I grip the balcony's rim firmly, and look beyond the dimly-lit shops and homes to the citadel itself: its aqua brilliance wavers.

_But soon they will._

My eyes are drawn to the indigo skies. The stars, glistening like shards of glass, lay scattered and lost throughout the sapphire dome.

I step away from the balcony's edge and exhale.

Several minutes pass within this solitude before I hear the smallest of rustles behind me and the feel the softest of touches on my arm. Turning, I glance down to see Christine at my side. Having discarded her fine attire, she has donned a simple white chemise fringed with lace. Bathed in the pale light, she glows with a soft ethereality that is wreathed by her dark hair. Without her mask, I perceive her fair countenance is flushed and that tears gleam in her brown eyes. In the frigid air, she involuntarily shivers like a ghost.

Wordlessly, I extend a gloved arm around her shoulders and draw her close. Sensing her consent, I enfold the girl within my dark wings.

I breathe in deeply, keenly aware of her presence against mine.

Raising my gaze, I set eyes on Cestral again. The castle's light continues to flicker and falter.

Feeling movement by my chest, I glance back down to see Christine has found the pendant embedded in the mail, and is tracing its outline with a finger. A glimmer attracts my attention and I realize the tears continue to glisten behind her lashes; she has uttered not one sound, nor released one watery pearl. And yet, despite the added warmth, the girl continues to quiver in my embrace.

"Come," I entreat softly, gently leading her back into the small room. Even as we pass through the glass portal, I assign the doors to lock themselves, and erect a Barrier layered with a dampening field.

No one will disturb us this night.

I guide her to the bed, noticing the sheets have been turned down. Perceiving she continues to cling to me, I slowly pry her from my body. Turning her slightly away from my person, I scoop her up in my arms, surprised to discover how light she weighs. I sit on the bed and set her small form in my lap.

Almost instantly, she responds by curling up like a kitten, nestling within the dark folds of my garments. Cocooned in my embrace, I sense she finally feels secure.

Finally safe.

Only then do the fettered tears flow without restraint, and does her frame shake with previously stifled sobs.

"Oh, my child," I whisper, moving a gloved hand to stroke her head. Even as I continue this rhythmic pattern, I find myself pondering this emotional change in her character.

Only once more have I glimpsed this innocence. It…was when I had come with the intention of inviting her to see Avalon. Has it truly been that long? She had lain upon the surface of her bed, deep in her private dreamland. I remember there was something about seeing her thus positioned which struck me so. This facet of her person, immersed in innocent slumber, proceeded to establish a sort of paradox in my mind.

No…that's not it. Not entirely.

God was merely granting me rare access to her character.

While I later related the event to Christine in jest, her subconscious actions had fascinated me. When I had first encountered her, she burned with an inner fire that was blazing for all to see. With her sharp tongue and calculating mind, I admit she was an intriguing opponent. And yet…remove that bravado and fierce display.

Even though she houses a fighting spirit, it was in the quiet, within that moment when I had accidentally arrived without her knowledge, when the core of her character chose to reveal itself to me. She might have sensed the Holy Spirit dwelling inside me. Perhaps I was merely a figment, a thread of imagination she was interacting with in her dream.

Regardless of the reason, I remember sitting beside her sleeping form, my movements causing her to start. Her eyes, truly not seeing, gazed up at me in wonder.

"Christine?" I ventured.

At the sound of my voice, she had gifted me with a misty smile and emitted a soft giggle. Rising, she propped herself up halfway into a sitting position with her hands.

I remember leaning closer to see if she was conscious of her actions, and the girl took that as an invitation to wrap her arms tightly around my neck in an affectionate hug. Her sudden behavior had startled me; I never would have expected to receive such a token from her, at least not willingly. Despite my initial reaction, however, I allowed her to remain there for a moment.

_When was the last time I ever received a hug? _I found myself contemplating, even as I felt her grip slacken.

I smirked as a thought suddenly struck me: _I wonder what would happen if one of her parents walked in. _Imagining the humorous scenario, I gently unlocked her arms from my neck and laid her back down.

I recall raising myself from the bed and bending my knees so that I could observe her at eye-level. I fail to remember how long I watched her lie there, undisturbed in her mental dreamscape. _What kind of adventure is she having? Is she perhaps combatting a nefarious foe, or saving a damsel from danger? Solving a mystery? _

She extended her limbs in a stretch, a sign that she was returning to reality. She was waking.

I smile at the rare memory, glancing down at the same individual who clings to me once again. _Strip away the warrior she frequently dons, the violence she inflicts upon her enemies. In the absolute stillness, she is Your child, God. A beloved daughter of the Holy One of Heaven. A fighter she was born to be, but at the center, in the purity of her heart, Christine is Yours. May the bond You share with her remain strong._

By now, her tears have soaked through my leather mail, seeping into my skin.

Observing her carefully, I realize, _She is weary with weeping…_

"I believe it is time for you to sleep," I whisper to my charge, but she continues to hold fast to me. "Did you hear me?" I inquire patiently.

She nods.

"All right then."

Easily gathering the girl in my arms, I stand and turn to lower her into the bed.

When she makes contact with the soft material, she suddenly stiffens. As she shoots a wide-eyed look to me, the embarrassed thought presents itself across her face.

A smile escapes me as I register her perceived predicament: there's one bed.

"Do not worry," I reassure her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I was actually sincere when I promised I wouldn't put you situations that make you uncomfortable. Let me show you." Leaving her side, I grip the hem of my cloak. With a simple flourish, I morph into my owl form. Hovering in the air for a moment, I alight upon one of the bedposts, using the surface as my perch.

I pray my actions make my honorable intentions clear.

_I will watch over you._

When understanding warms her fatigued countenance, I descend from the post to the floor. In a swirl of feathers and shadows, I revert back to my previous form.

Silently, I pull back the covers so that she can readjust her body for its much-needed rest. Sliding her legs in, she proceeds to adjust her chemise. When she is satisfied with her preening, the girl cuddles up to the pillow, signaling that I should conceal her with the heavy blanket. As I do so, I become aware that her tears have been replenished, trailing down her face and penetrating the plush cushion underneath.

_Then sleep will not come easy, will it? Father, what can I do? What would _You_ do?_

_ Sing._

Almost at once, a melody floods my mind. A song that always brought her peace and comfort.

Because of Christine's memories, the words come readily enough:

_You are my hiding place._

_ You always fill my heart _

_With songs of deliverance._

_ Whenever I am afraid_

_I will trust in You._

_No, _I respond, _she knows the words. The melody, however…something tells me that is just what she needs. Father, please, fill her with Your peace._

Sitting on the bed again, I survey her sheltered state and the exhaustion that encompasses her being. _May you find rest, dear one, and not awaken until you have been restored._

I begin the simple melody in a quiet manner, one designed to beckon her to desired slumber. The song's effect is thankfully swift, lulling her trembling body into a sleepy stillness that will allow her mind to drift. I repeat the mournful notes, watching as her eyes begin to close, now bereft of glistening sorrow. Moments later, her entire person relaxes, releasing one last sigh as she sinks deeper into her soft nest. Once this final emotion has departed, her breathing becomes slow and peaceful.

At last, she is asleep.

I allow my voice to trail off now that I see the deed has been accomplished.

_Dear Father, _I pray, _please guard her heart and mind as she slumbers. May sleep be her bosom companion. Please protect her dreams from any influence other than Your own._

Gradually rising as not to disturb the sleeping girl, I stand to my full height.

_Thank You for burying my feelings so that I could attend to Christine. But_, I confess, _my heart is heavy, too._

Treading across the room as stealthily as I can, I stand before the Barrier I had erected earlier. It shimmers in response to my presence, even more so when I lay a gloved hand upon its invisible surface. Sensing me as its creator, the sole individual with permission to pass through it, the field wavers and gives way so that I can proceed. Advancing through it, I whisper a Seal of silence so that Christine will not be disturbed should I make any noise. _Perhaps I'll move the Barrier to the outside later._

Now faced with the doors, I unlock one of the glass portals and slip through the slim passage.

Closing it behind me, I lean against the firm exterior and exhale; the air, having expelled the frigid breeze from before, is now thick with my hidden emotions.

Gazing up into the night sky, I see nothing but stifling gloom. The moon and her bright children have been swallowed by clouds that swell with sorrow. Searching through the shadows, I faintly make out Cestral's outline: its light has been extinguished, engulfed by the thick haze that seems to have fallen over the eerily silent realm.

Spears of frigid cold sting my senses, alerting me that rain has begun to fall. Instead of slicing through the thick blanket of ebony, however, the droplets seem to enhance the melancholy atmosphere. I raise my face to the black sky, grateful for the icy drops that trail over my countenance and slither down my throat.

_Oh Father_, I pray, my thought the shade of a whisper, _Oh Father…_

_ I…my heart hungers for justice, God. I-I just watched my friend…my _brother_…be killed, cut down in cold blood before my very eyes, and there was nothing I could do!_

In a fit of suppressed emotion, I slam a fist down upon the balcony's edge, the pain splintering through my arm.

_God, I did what You told me to do. I went to prison without defending myself because I knew it was part of Your plan. I stole away to the ball because You told me to go there. And yet…!_

_ I share Christine's ire, Lord. I want to find this monstrous villain and exact upon him the justice he deserves._

_ I admit it, God—I want revenge. I want to watch him suffer for all he has done!_

As I tremble with a violence that astonishes me, I feel my knees give way and I fall to the stone floor, pain exploding across my shins. I grip the banister before me, bracing myself in order to endure the hurt. When the sharp flashes subside to dull throbs, I allow the tension in my body to dissipate. Sitting back against my heels, I bow my head.

_God…_ I whisper. _My desire for retribution is strong, so potent that this…this _fury _is almost overwhelming. I could do it. Find him. Track him down. Make him pay for all of the pain and misery he has caused. How easy it would be. And yet…I know full well You would not approve._

I grit my teeth as memorized Scripture comes to mind with ease:

_Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord."_

_ Romans 12:19, _I echo numbly. _God, help me. _

Overhead, in the stormy dome, the rain quickly intensifies into a ruthless downpour. The watery daggers shower down upon me, soaking me to the skin.

I close my eyes.

Freeze me to the core.

Although I succumb to this icy ensnarement, I give a sharp intake of breath as I feel the sharp claws wrap themselves around my person. The infecting cold seeps into my being; it pierces my quivering hands, quickly spreading through my arms and legs as it seeks to overwhelm me at the center.

Something pricks at my consciousness, shaking me from this dangerous, frigid trance.

Gentle, soft laughter.

In my mind's eye, I see a young man with dark hair and eyes offer his hand.

"_Come, Jareth," he says with a genuine smile, "show me the Labyrinth like you said you would!"_

I stiffen at the sensitive memory: Lionel, in his youth. The image dissolves and is replaced by another:

_The moon rises high above us as we traverse through the winding paths of the dizzy maze. Side by side, the two of us tread the stone pathways in contemplative silence. _

_ "I am concerned about my father," Lionel confesses, glancing in my direction. "He acts as though he is lost in a dream, never aware of those around him, and he's feverish to the touch. I fear he's become quite ill. Do you know of any herbs, any enchantments that might aid him?"_

_ Sadly, I shake my head. "No, I'm sorry."_

Lionel took his father's death hard. Although my friend had always been reserved, he became even more reticent when he succeeded his father as a Lord of the Court.

This scene is soon overtaken by another:

_I sit in my throne, upright and gripping the arms of the seat firmly. Although sorrowful anger sings in my veins at the sight before me, I manage to retain my composure due to years of court training. Lionel stands before me, addressing an assembly of incensed goblin nobility. My friend's face is flushed with passion as he jabs an accusing finger in my direction. _

_ "Mortals have influenced him long enough!" he declares to the crowd, "We can no longer trust anything this puppet king says!" _

_ There are shouts of agreement from the majority of the Court._

_ At this response, Lionel turns to me with a sneer of triumph. See, his eyes say, you are no longer King of your realm._

_ You wound me more than you know._

The painful memory is quickly shooed away by a more recent one:

_Lionel bows before Christine and me, a changed individual through God's grace. _

"_I realize that I was wrong," he says, his voice barely a whisper, "that I was blinded by hate, and that I opposed the very One who could set me free. I wish for you to understand," his voice breaks, "that I am sorry with all of my heart."_

Tears burn in my eyes.

_I watch in horror as Red Death turns the blade sharply, causing Lionel to cry out in anguish. _

_ "What irony this is," the murderer hisses with a sickening smile, "that the one you see killing you bears the face of your dearest friend."_

_ He wrenches his rapier from the nobleman's body. Watching my brother in Christ immediately crumple to the ground, I sense my self-control begin to crack._

_ With anger sharpening my senses, I lunge forth, sword aimed with deadly precision._

It is the final memory, however, that causes me to choke:

_I stagger to my feet from the blow I've just received from a most unsavory character. Grimacing through the pain, I glare at the large youth who towers over me. _

_ "Lights out for you," he grins savagely. "This'll be the last time you get away with insulting me!"_

_ "Not so fast!" Calls a voice from above. _

_ The leader, his gang, and I look up to see a slender, young dark-haired boy casually sitting on the edge of the brick wall nearby. From the finery of his attire and his demeanor, I can tell this boy's a noble. Probably learning under his father or a private tutor. _

"_What you're doing hardly seems fair," he remarks calmly. Leaping off the edge, he lands beside me with the grace of a cat. "Come, Prince of goblins," he addresses me with a smirk. "I believe it is time that these ruffians learned their place!"_

"_And who is it that desires to be my champion?" I ask, encouraged by this boy's energy._

"_Lionel Farron," he replies with a gleam in his brown eyes, "at your service, Your Highness."_

My throat constricts at the remembrance of our first meeting, and the tears scorch my face. _Oh, God…_ I weep. _Lionel!_

Shuddering with sobs, I grip the banister in front of me once more and use it to pull myself up. Now standing to my full height, I feel the winds and rain raging around me, tearing my long hair away from my face, clawing at my thin cloak, battering my exhausted body.

_There is no holding back,_ I realize. _Not anymore. _

I throw my head back to face the stormy heavens.

I scream and scream and scream.

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**1. What does this chapter reveal about Jareth, his character, and his relationships with Christine and Lionel?**

**2. Why does God does not want us to take revenge?**

**Look for the next one around the end of June or so. This is actually as far as I've written, and so I thank you for your patience in advance! XD**

**EDIT: 6/29/13 Hi everyone. Looks like I won't be able to meet this self-imposed deadline; summer has been busier than I had anticipated. I'm about halfway through the next chapter, but I need to write the next few chapters before posting to make sure events/conversations/etc. are going as planned. That being said, either subscribe to me so you know when I update, or keep checking back every week or so. Thanks for your patience! ^_^**

**~SealedHearts**


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